


Dark Days, Black Nights

by Titch360



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 77,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new criminal organization moves into Gotham, turning the town upside down and possibly sending the Dynamic Duo to their graves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 1

Damian regained consciousness with a gasp.  He had no idea where he was, the room around him didn’t match the last one he remembered.  The gasp, and the sudden jerk of his head sent spasms of pain coursing through his little body.  He tried to take a deep breath, and coughed against the blood, dust, and debris that was clogging his mouth and nose.  The coughing fit sent pain shooting through his left side, and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.  _Broken ribs, but I remember that from before…before what?_   The shortness of breath was more concerning to the damaged bird.  _Did I puncture a lung?_  

Damian turned his head, taking in the room around him.  His neck was sore, as was the rest of his body, but his neck didn’t scream at him to stop moving when he turned it around.  Maybe having the transplanted spine, reinforced with steel, had just saved his life.

He was alone in a small office.  The place looked like a bomb hit it, which as far as Damian could remember, it might have.  There were posters and a corkboard barely hanging from the wall to his right.  The wall to his left, less than five feet away, had a large, jagged hole in it.  _Maybe it was a bomb,_ Damian thought.  Had he been able to look behind him, deeper into the office, he would have seen two dead thugs.  One had a broken neck, the other a smashed skull.  Damian would never know that those men, who he had been fighting mere minutes before, had saved his life.  All three had been blasted through the left hand wall, and only the fact that Damian had hit the men, instead of the cinderblock wall on the far side of the room, had kept him from sharing their fate.

He looked down at himself, taking inventory of his injuries.  The first thing he noticed was he was wearing his Robin costume.  As he surveyed the red costume, some places stained darker with blood from several deep gashes in his chest and stomach, the night’s activities began to return to him. 

Batman and Robin had been chasing the henchmen of a new player in Gotham.  They still didn’t have a name for the new criminal mastermind.  So far, he had successfully completed several high profile heists of technology firms and chemical manufacturers.  The crew had left precious few clues to their identity or their overall plan.  Batman was puzzled, because the overall thefts had no connection.  The items stolen were only of marginal value, and they could only be used together with the addition of several more components.  So far, and as far as the Dynamic Duo was aware, the new gang didn’t have those components.  Batman’s working theory was that the crew was stealing the items in a random order to divert suspicion as to the final…thing.  They still didn’t know what that thing was, and had only gotten this close to the crew tonight through a lucky tip, and being in the right place at the right time.

Damian no longer felt the tip was so lucky.  He lifted his right arm to wipe his forehead.  The glove came away bloody from a gash in the boy’s brow.  More alarmingly was how much his wrist hurt when he touched his head.  He slowly peeled back the gauntlet and noticed the dark purple discoloration and swelling.  _Yep, that wrist is broken.  This day just keeps getting better._

He gently put his right arm back down and lifted his left arm.  The arm itself didn’t hurt, but the movement sent fire through his broken ribs.  He tried to sit up, propping himself on his left elbow until the nausea overtook him, and he laid down again until the wave of dizziness passed.  The last thing he wanted to do was throw up, not because it may hurt, but because of the fact that he is Robin, and Robin is _not_ going to throw up while in uniform.  He was also well aware that he could barely move, and if he did throw up, it had the possibility of staying up and strangling him as he tried to clear his mouth.  He tried again to sit up, more slowly this time.  His vision began to dim, but cleared as he allowed himself to get adjusted to his new altitude.  He continued to look over his injuries, his mind not processing things nearly as fast as it should.  _I’m guessing I have a pretty good concussion._

One thought came clearly through the fog of his mind.  With all of the injuries he had seen so far, why didn’t he hurt more?  Yes, he was in great pain, but even with his high tolerance for pain, he should be feeling all this more. 

The answer should have been obvious, but Damian didn’t want to believe what his mind should have been telling him: _nerve damage_.  It didn’t hurt because his nerves were so fried from constantly firing while he had been unconscious.  A minute later, Damian would be very glad for that small reprieve.

As he sat up, his eyes were able to focus on his lower body.  His left leg appeared to be trapped under a section of the wall.  He hoped the leg was just trapped, and not pinned.  He would gladly take another broken bone, so long as he got to keep his leg. 

He looked down at his right leg, and was not sure what he was seeing was actually happening.  He stared dumbly down at the leg, thinking ‘ _That is really going to hurt once I can feel it.’_   His leg started out going in the normal manner.  Once his leg got to his knee, it took a ninety degree right turn.  He also saw that it took a one hundred eighty degree twist.  His mind just couldn’t comprehend that he was looking at his heel, instead of the top of his foot.  His vision began to dim again, and Damian laid back down, unsure of what to do next.

Another cough racked his body, sending more pain shooting through his shattered ribs.  The pain caused a clear thought to shoot into his mind.  _Batman!  Where is Batman?_

They had been fighting with the goons, hoping for a quick encounter.  That was not to be, as they just kept coming.  Batman and Robin had become separated, and the fight became quickly overwhelming.  Robin had heard shots fired, but didn’t see where they hit.  And then…and then…what?  It was right there, as if coming to him through a slow internet connection, the page loading in fits and starts.  After the shots, Batman had gone down, Robin hadn’t seen him again.  He didn’t have too much time to look, though.  He remembered the next person to come into the room had been wearing some sort of vest.  He held his arm up…and the next thing Robin remembered was waking up in severe pain, in the next room.  _What happened to Batman?_

Damian sat up again and looked into the next room through the shattered wall.  On the floor, about twenty feet away, he saw a black shrouded form that should have been about the right size for Batman.  He called out, yelling as loud as he could manage, “Batman!  Batman, are you okay?”  The yell, unfortunately, was barely loud enough for Damian to hear, and nowhere near loud enough to carry across the space to Batman.  Damian pressed the key for his communicator to contact Batman.  All he got was static.  It didn’t occur to him for the three minutes he attempted to use the ruined communicator that the transmitter had been smashed beyond repair on his trip through the wall.  It was no use.

_I had really hoped not to have to do this_ Damian thought.  He tried to move, pain shooting through his right leg as the bones ground against each other.  What he thought would be his first problem actually was not.  His left leg slid easily, and relatively painlessly, out from under the section of wall.  Instead of being propped on his foot, like he thought, the wall was actually being held up by pieces of a smashed chair leg.  Moving his foot in his boot sent a sharp pain through him, revealing several more broken bones in the foot, but otherwise no permanent damage.  He tried to get to his knees to crawl over to Batman, but his right arm would not support any weight.  Robin collapsed back on his side, attempting to catch his breath as spasms of pain coursed through his body.  Black spots clouded in from the edges of his vision as he began to lose consciousness.  He fumbled for his utility belt and activated his emergency distress beacon, the one thing in his utility belt that he swore he would never use.  If it was working, it would only be a matter of minutes before the signal was received and the “B” team was dispatched, if they would come at all.  Sure, his relationship with Drake had improved, a bit, but Drake was still upset that Dick had chosen Damian for Robin.  If nothing else, he would come for Grayson, still slumped on the storeroom floor.

His vision clearing again, Damian began the long crawl over to Batman.  He pulled himself along, inch by inch, on his elbows.  They were the only part of his body he felt could support his weight.  Every move of his left arm sent fire through his broken ribs.  As he crawled over the broken wall into the storeroom, his leg straightened out, causing the boy to collapse with a whimper, tears of pain streaming from his eyes. 

He didn’t know how long he laid there, waiting for the pain to subside.  When it did, he resumed dragging his broken body towards his mentor.  Robin happened to glance to his left, to where he last remembered seeing the man in the vest.  There now was a pair of boots, filled with a smoking half-pair of legs, both ending at the knee.  Damian was only partially aware that he was crawling through the liquefied remains of the suicide bomber. 

He reached Batman’s side after three times as long as Damian initially thought the trip would take.  Batman was laying on his side, blood oozing from three bullet holes in his chest.  While the Bat-suit’s Kevlar material was usually bullet-resistant, these thugs had been using “cop killers,” armor piercing rounds designed to turn a bulletproof vest into so much confetti.  Damian was surprised Batman was still breathing, even though the breath was labored, and getting shallower by the minute.  Damian clutched at the emergency beacon again, silently begging for the cavalry to hurry up. 

Damian’s strength was fading fast as he tried to stop the flow of blood from Batman’s chest.  His vision became blurry as he held the edge of his cape to the man’s wounds, begging the blood to stop.  Damian didn’t notice the black spots in his vision as he attempted to save Batman.  He only noticed the blood, flowing down Batman’s chest as the tears flowed down his cheeks.  After several minutes, Damian’s strength gave out, and he collapsed back onto his side, unable to move.  His last thought was, “I’m sorry, I failed you,” before finally losing consciousness.

**A/N: Well, here is the first chapter of a new direction for me and my writing, serialized chapters.  I haven’t decided how long this will be yet, but I have had this idea for a while.  Stay tuned for the rest of the story, which will introduce a brand new villain, who, if you know your Bat history, is actually not new at all.  He is actually one of the oldest Bat villains out there, and I am guaranteeing that most, if not all, of you readers out there have never heard of him.  Just to keep all of you in suspense, the villain won’t be introduced properly until at least chapter 3 or 4.**

**Standard Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.  The only concern I have about writing this story is that I don’t know who owns the rights to my main villain, if anyone owns them at all.  The storyline in which the villain originally appeared is not actually owned by DC, as far as I can tell.  It predates DC by several decades.  I get tired of the same Rogue’s Gallery villains all the time, so I thought I would delve back through time to come up with an interesting foil for the Dynamic Duo.  At least, when I bring him into the modern day, he should be a good evil counterpart.  The original character is quite dated by today’s standards, but I think I can fix that.**


	2. 2

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 2

“Oracle to Red Robin, come in.  We have an emergency.”

Red Robin tapped his cowl, activating his comm device.  “Just a minute, I’m tying up a few loose ends.”  The ‘loose ends’ Tim was tying up were actually two criminals he had caught robbing a jewelry store.  He was tying them to a light pole after he had called the police to pick them up.

Walking away, he reactivated his communicator.  “Okay, Oracle.  What’s the emergency?”

The voice replied, “Twenty minutes ago, we monitored an explosion at a warehouse at 5th and Johnson.”

Tim sighed as he Bat-roped himself to the top of an apartment building, “Not exactly an emergency, O.”

“Just listen, will you?  Five minutes ago, I received a signal from the utility belt emergency locator beacon.  I can’t raise anyone on regular channels.  I need you to go investigate.”

“What about Robin?  Why can’t he go and see what trouble D…Batman has gotten himself into?”

Oracle’s voice was insistent, “They were patrolling together.  The emergency beacon…was Robin’s.  They have been investigating a new cell in town, and tracked them to the warehouse.  Please, Red, check it out, quickly.”

He was amazed at what he heard.  “Robin’s beacon?  Didn’t he say he would only use it over his dead body?”  Tim was instantly sorry he phrased it that way.  He knew Damian only carried the emergency beacon in his belt because Dick swore he would banish Damian from patrolling if he didn’t.  “5th and Johnson?  That’s close to Hood’s territory.  Call him, have him meet me there.  I’m on my way.”

Oracle answered bluntly, “I’m not exactly his favorite person.  You know that.  How do you even know he will take the call?”

“Patch him through to me, I’ll talk to him.” Tim swung through the Gotham night and waited for his next call.

A minute later, Jason’s cocky voice crackled through Tim’s earpiece.  “Well, hello Replacement.  Or, should I say, Burger Joint?”

Tim hated the day that the Red Robin restaurant chain had opened its first location in Gotham.  Dick and Jason had insisted they go for dinner on opening day.  Since then, Jason had insisted on adding to Tim’s list of nicknames.  He had been ‘Burger Joint’, ‘Burger Boy’, ‘Restaurant’, and several others.  Tim wasn’t sure if they were worse than ‘Replacement’, but it did let him know that Jason was beginning to accept him.  Jason had called him much worse over the years.

“Now is not the time, Hood.  I need your help.  Did O tell you about the explosion?”  Tim was trying to maintain patience with the previous Robin.

Jason laughed, “She didn’t have to.  I’m about ten blocks away from it right now.  I could see the fireball and feel the shockwave from here.  What’s so important about checking it out?”

“Batman and Robin were inside the warehouse during the explosion.  We monitored an emergency beacon from the site.”

“You have my condolences.  Should we move into the cave and take over?  You can be my Robin.  No point going to the warehouse, Replacement, no one could have survived that blast.”

Tim actually felt angry that Jason wasn’t taking this seriously.  He swooped through the Gotham night as he explained.  “The explosion took place twenty minutes ago.  The emergency beacon didn’t start until five minutes ago, and it is still being received.  Just meet me there.  Please, Hood?”

“I still don’t see the emergency.  Big Bird must just be lonely tonight.”  Jason sounded worried, even though he didn’t mean to.  He was sure Tim had heard the change in his tone of voice.

Tim had heard it.  “Hood, it was Robin’s beacon.  You know how he felt about the beacon.  It can only be a real emergency if we got his beacon, and not Big Bird’s.”

“Demon Brat set it off?”  _Poor choice of words, Jason_.  “Must be bad.  I want to see this, now.  I’ll be there in about five minutes.”

“Thank you, Hood.  I should be there just ahead of you.  Restaur…Red Robin, out.”  _Damn it, now he’s got me thinking it._   He heard Jason’s chuckle before the line went dead.

_Four and a half minutes later…_

Red Robin landed outside of what was left of the warehouse and picked his way through the rubble towards the building.  Looking up at the third floor, he saw a section of wall that had been blown out.  He could see through the hole that a section of the roof had collapsed as well.  He decided to take the boring route to the storeroom, and entered through the front door before climbing the stairs to the top floor storeroom.

Entering the storeroom, Tim thought Jason may have been right in his initial assessment.  He was having a hard time believing that anyone could have survived the devastation of the room in front of him.  _If they knew a bomb was about to go off, where would they have gone to hide?_

There was an office to his left that was as likely a place as any.  Tim opened the door as much as possible and stuck his head inside.  _Okay, maybe not the safest place to be, after all._   Inside the office were two dead men on the opposite side of the room from a large hole, obviously from the blast.

Tim turned towards the door as he heard a low whistle.  He saw Jason entering the space, taking off his red hood and staring slack-jawed at the wreckage.  “Where are they?”

Tim shrugged, “Just got here, I haven’t seen them yet.”

“How about the office?”

Tim shook his head.  “No, I just checked.  Two dead men inside.  Neither are Batman nor Robin.”

The two Bat boys made their way further into the room, scanning the debris and bodies for the two for which they were looking.  The detective training Bruce had drilled into them took over, and Tim stopped to examine drag marks on the floor.  They seemed to lead from the wall of the office, past an odd clearing.  Tim returned to the office and saw that the drag marks began near the wreckage of the wall.  He also noticed a good deal of blood in the drag path.  He followed the path to the clearing, where Jason was examining a pair of legs.

Jason nodded to the remains.  “This must be what’s left of the bomber.  I’ve seen this before: most likely a suicide vest.”

Tim had already walked away, following the drag marks.  He looked towards the wall and saw two bodies they hadn’t checked yet, one unusually smaller than the rest in the room.  “Jay!  There they are!  In the corner.”

Jason whipped his head around and saw the two lumps Tim was pointing to.  Tim couldn’t help but notice that the drag marks ended at the smaller of the two bodies.  Jason ran over and checked Batman.  “He’s been shot.  Three times, upper chest.  The bullets penetrated the uniform.”

Tim didn’t want to ask, he was too scared to know.  He couldn’t even approach closer than the six feet away he currently was.  “Is he…is he still alive?”

Jason felt for a pulse on Dick’s neck and sighed with relief.  “Yes, but just barely.  He’s lost a lot of blood.  His pulse is weak, but it’s there.”

Tim sighed and closed his eyes, relieved.  Then his eyes snapped open again.  “What about Robin?”

Jason rolled the boy onto his back, feeling for a pulse while trying not to be repulsed at the unnaturally floppy way the youth’s body moved.  Too many parts moving where there were no natural joints.  His pulse was strong, so much so that Jason almost expected the unconscious hero to bite at his hand out of reflex.  “He’s alive, but he took quite a beating.  I don’t like the way some of those injuries look.”

Tim nodded.  He had seen the way Damian’s body had flopped around and was trying to hold down his dinner.  He whispered, “This isn’t right.”

“What?” Jason glanced up at the teen and saw that he looked pale.  He never liked to show his softer side to the family, but this once, he felt for his Replacement.

Tim began quietly, but was easily heard in the deathly quiet room.  “He doesn’t deserve this.  He may be a Demon Brat, and a long way from being considered human.  He may be a son of a bitch, but he doesn’t deserve to be beaten and left for dead like this.  Did you notice the drag marks?  He wasn’t here.  He dragged himself over here to check on Dick.”

Jason nodded.  “Look at the cape, the bottom is bloody.  Looks like he tried to stop Dickiebird’s bleeding before he passed out.  Call it in, we need to get them to a hospital now.”

Tim nodded and activated his communicator.  “O, we found them, they’re alive.  They need some serious medical attention; the medical bay at the cave won’t do it this time.”

Jason butted in, “Gotham Mercy is a block away.  I have some friends there, I think I can guarantee some Bat-anonymity.”

Tim started again, “Did you get that?  Have Dr. Thompkins meet us there as soon as possible, we’re going to need her.  Inform Agent A, but have him stay home, he’s too recognizable.  I’ll report in as soon as I know more.”

Oracle replied, “I’m calling Dr. Thompkins now.  I need an update as soon as possible.”  Her voice sounded pained.  She still had feelings for Dick, and was one of the few people who could stand Damian for extended periods of time.

Jason turned back to Batman and Robin, and began to pick up Batman.  “Come on, Baby Bird, he aint heavy, he’s your brother.”

Tim hesitated, still not wanting to get any closer.  Jason stood up, walked over, and placed his arm around Tim’s shoulders.  “Come on, we need to get them to the hospital now.  Dick’s lost a lot of blood, he can’t have much left.”

Tim nodded, but still didn’t move.  Jason pulled the teen in tighter, now in a side hug as they looked at the fallen Dynamic Duo.  “We need to do this, now.”

Tim was shaking as he whispered, “I don’t want to make anything worse by moving him.”

Jason walked the teen hero forward, approaching their oldest and youngest brothers.  “Tim, look at him, there is nothing you can do to make it worse, but there is everything you can do to make it better.  He may have a long way to go before anyone could call him human, but I know you want to give him that chance.  Family helps each other, especially in the darkest of times.  Now, pick up our brother and move your ass.”

Jason put his hood back on before picking Dick up and heading for the door.  Tim picked up Damian, acutely scared of the way the Little Bat’s leg was swaying.  He followed Jason down the stairs and out the door.

As they hurried to the hospital, just a block away, Tim addressed his brother.  “I’ve never heard you talk that way before; about family and all that.”

Jason was glad Tim couldn’t see through his hood as he blushed.  “Needed to get you moving,” he said gruffly.

Tim wasn’t buying it, but he thought Jason would shut down if he pushed too hard.  Still, he continued, “Why don’t you come around more often?  It doesn’t have to be all the time, but maybe more than once every five months?  We could…we could be something closer to that family you were talking about.  It would make Alfred happy.”

Jason smiled under his hood.  He didn’t know Tim felt this way, but always had suspicions.  “Just hurry up; Bat-tusi here is bleeding all over me.”  He noticed Tim’s expression change even through his cowl.  “Still, I do miss Alfred’s cooking.”

The brothers entered the emergency room of Gotham Mercy Hospital, the Red Hood yelling for a doctor.  A trauma team rushed to the two costumed vigilantes, dragging gurneys and arranging the injured heroes on the rolling beds.  The medical personnel rushed the Bat and the Bird into the trauma unit, Reds Hood and Robin following.  As they were placed in adjoining bays, Red Hood took the time to call for the attention of the doctors and nurses.

“Listen up, everyone.  You all know me here.  You know what I do and what I’m capable of.  These are not only good friends of mine, they are Gotham’s first line of defense.  While you may be tempted to learn a few secrets, their identities must remain a secret.  I will be quite unhappy if anyone chooses to break my trust, if you get my drift.”  Jason patted the gun, still strapped to his hip as he asked.  He saw several staff members gulp and pale visibly. 

The lead doctor approached the costumed men, speaking for everyone when he said, “We will respect their anonymity.  Is there anything else you would like of us?”

Jason glared at the man before realizing the doctor couldn’t see through the mask.  “Their masks and cowls stay on at all times.  No cameras or recording devices in the surgical suites or recovery rooms.  My partner and I will be observing from the surgical observation suites.”  He leaned closer and whispered to the man, “And, for God’s sake, please save them.  They are very important to me.”

The doctor turned to his staff and started issuing orders.  In less than ten minutes, Dick was wheeled into surgery, while Damian was taken for x-rays.  As soon as the x-rays were developed, Damian was rushed into his own surgery.  Red Hood was shown into the observation room for Batman’s surgery.  Red Robin was led to the observation room for Robin’s surgery.  If either of the observers could see each other, they would never have relaxed.  Since they were each alone, they both sat down and watched the surgeries, while trying to stay awake as the adrenaline rush wore off.

Dr. Leslie Thompkins arrived at Gotham Mercy Hospital thirty minutes later.  She stuck her head into each of the observation rooms to greet the former Robins before running off to scrub up for surgery.  She ran back and forth between the operating suites, getting updates and helping out where possible.

Tim sat in his observation room, equal parts amazed and disgusted at what he saw below him.  The doctor, choosing to address Damian’s most serious wound first, was picking bone fragments out of the boy’s lung and handing them to an assistant, who was busy reassembling the numerous pieces into four individual ribs.  Tim had never thought of himself as weak-stomached before, but sitting there, looking inside the current Robin’s chest, he was having a hard time keeping his dinner down.  _I don’t think I will ever be able to look at Damian the same way,_ the former Boy Wonder thought.

An hour after she arrived, Dr. Thompkins returned to Tim’s observation room to give an update.  Tim activated his comm device so that Jason and Barbara could hear without him having to repeat it over again.

She began, “These two took quite a beating tonight.  Batman was shot three times in the upper chest, with penetration of his body armor.  He lost an estimated forty percent of his blood volume.  If you had been any later in bringing him in, we would be planning a funeral now, instead of continuing surgery.”

Tim looked like a lost child as he asked, “But, he’s going to be okay, right?”

Leslie smiled at the teen, “Fortunately, you Bats are tough, and he is a very common blood type, so we are able to transfuse him and replenish his blood volume fairly easily.”

Tim repeated, “But, he’s going to be okay, right?”

“Yes, Red Robin, he will be just fine.”

Tim jumped, then cringed as both Jason and Barbara yelled in celebration, the combined noise almost deafening him.  He forgot that he had turned up the gain on his communicator so both could hear the update.  Leslie smiled widely as Tim reached under his cowl and rubbed his ear.

“You don’t happen to have a hearing specialist at this hospital, do you?”

“I think you’ll be fine.  Now, about Robin.”  Tim glanced back into the surgical suite at the mention of his alias.  “He suffered a lot of damage.  From top to bottom, he has a scalp laceration with a small surface crack in his skull.  X-ray’s show that the crack doesn’t penetrate all the way through the bone, and should heal up on its own in a week or so.  Moving down, he has four shattered ribs on his left side, with fragments penetrating his left lung.  The lung is collapsed, and the surgeon is removing close to one hundred fragments.  The lung will be over sown and inflated first, then the ribs will be replaced when the pieces are reassembled.  He is a very lucky boy.”

Jason’s voice could be heard from the tiny speaker, “He didn’t look too lucky to me, Doc.”

She continued, “He is lucky because all of the shrapnel damage is confined to the lung and missed the heart completely.  There is one fragment that missed the heart by less than half an inch.”

Barbara gasped over the radio, “Oh my.”

“Will it heal after surgery?” Tim asked nervously.

“Yes.  Three months from now, no one will ever know he had a chest injury.  We can even do something about the scarring so it will be barely noticeable.”

Tim smirked, “Don’t bother.  Robin seems to like his scars.  He would never forgive us if we took that one away from him.”  Both Jason and Barbara chuckled over the speaker.

“Moving on, his right wrist has a simple fracture of both ulna and radius.  Once the swelling subsides, we can cast it.  It will heal in a couple weeks.  He has a gash in his belly that nicked the small intestine.  The surgeon will have to go in and fix the cut before suturing the gash.  He has two broken bones in his left foot that will heal on their own in about the same time frame as the wrist, we will cast after surgery.”

Leslie looked away, and Tim knew she was getting to the worst of it.  He looked back at the child in surgery.  The surgeon had pulled the final fragment from the lung and was closing the puncture wounds in the tissue.  His aide had reassembled two of the ribs and was working on the third.  “Doctor, what are they using to hold the ribs together?”

She looked relieved that she didn’t have to continue with the injury report just yet.  “Surgical screws, surgical adhesive, duct tape, chewing gum.  You know, the usual stuff.”

Tim looked at her oddly.  He knew she was trying to lighten the mood and be funny, but his sleep deprived and emotionally compromised mind just wouldn’t process it.  His only reply was, “Oh, okay.”

She knew she was on to the bad news now.  Jason’s voice came through the comm again.  “What about his knee, Doc?  That didn’t look too good to me.”

She sighed, not looking at Tim.  “His knee was completely smashed.  It’s not salvageable.  The surgeon will have to perform a total knee replacement.”  Tim hung his head, Barbara gasped over the speaker, and Jason was silent.  She continued, “He will have the best possible replacement on the market.  He will have 80, maybe 85 percent of his previous mobility back after he recovers.  He will walk again, maybe even run someday.  But, I’m afraid I have to recommend he hang up the cape, so to speak.  I know the kind of work you do, how tough it is on the body.  His injury will always be a liability in the field.  It may never completely stop aching.  Weather changes will not be his friend.  He will have to have several more surgeries over his life to replace the joint as he grows, and technology will continue to improve, which will make the implants better.  But, for now, it is my recommendation, as the Bat’s trusted physician since before you were born, that Robin retire from crime fighting.”

Tim couldn’t look at the kindly face of the doctor, now pained with having to give such news.  He stared down at the boy on the table, not knowing how to react.  He reached up and turned off his communicator, and was about to turn around and thank the doctor for the update, when he heard the door open softly behind him.

He heard Jason’s soft voice behind him say, “Thank you for letting us know, Doc.  Could you go and keep an eye on Batman for me, please?”  The older woman left the room, shutting the door quietly.  Jason took off his helmet as he approached Tim.  He pulled the teen’s cowl back, revealing a face streaked with tears.  “I never knew you cared about the little bastard, Tim.”

Jason pulled Tim into a tight hug as the teen broke down.  He cried into Jason’s chest as he gripped his older brother tightly.  “He doesn’t deserve this, Jason, he doesn’t.  We need to find whoever did this.  They need to pay!”

Jason stood, holding his brother as tears escaped his own eyes.  _You’re getting soft, Todd._   “We’ll find them, Baby Bird.  We’ll make them pay.”

 

**A/N:  Here we go, chapter two.  This chapter was actually not the one I originally planned, but I thought it fit a bit better than my original at this point in the tale.  Of course, if anyone remembers my note from chapter one, this now means that the villain reveal will be pushed back at least one more chapter.  Stay tuned, same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.**

**Disclaimer:  I don’t own anything.  I barely own the laptop I write my stories on, so I definitely don’t own any DC characters.**

**I am thinking of writing all my future stories so they form a new, cohesive time line, though…**

**I don’t think I could do any worse of a job with my timeline than DC did with the New 52.**


	3. 3

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 3

_The following takes place during Chapter 2 of Dark Days, Black Nights_

 

As Red Hood and Red Robin carried Batman and Robin from the storehouse, a shadowy figure observed them from an alley across the street.  The heroes hurried down the block, in the general direction of Gotham Mercy Hospital, too busy to see the camera following their movements.

Once they were out of sight, the man pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed the first preset speed dial contact.  It was answered on the second ring.

“Report, Agent 17.”

“There were problems at the storehouse, Boss.  Batman and Robin showed up.  It was handled, but we are going to have to write off the storehouse at 5th and Johnson.  The police should be here anytime now.”  As he reported that, Agent 17 could hear a faint siren growing louder in the distance.  He turned around and walked down the alley.

“The storehouse is no big loss; it was just a staging area, after all.  How did the Bat find out about it?”

“I don’t know, Boss.”

The Boss made an exaggerated inhalation noise over the connection.  “Wrong answer, Agent 17.  Operational security demands we know more than the Bat.  I must know if he is on to us yet, or if this was just an unlucky coincidence.  You and Agent 20 need to keep track of the Bat until we know if our operation had been compromised.”

Agent 17 bowed his head as he lifted the collar of his coat against the cold wind.  _Agent 20, poor bastard._   “That’s going to be a problem, Boss.  It was required for Agent 20 to intervene in the situation at the storehouse.  He…put an end to it…at the cost of his own life.”

The Boss sternly demanded, “Explain, Agent 17.”

The man took a deep breath before relating the tale.  “Reports coming from the storehouse told us that Batman and Robin had the upper hand and would soon be in a position to interrogate our cell members.  Agent 20 chose to do the brave thing and protect the organization.  He made his way to the storehouse and detonated his vest before anything could be traced back to us.  The blast was big enough to destroy any evidence of our involvement with the storehouse.”

The Boss took a few moments before responding, long enough that Agent 17 thought he may have lost the connection.  Finally he replied, “A brave man, for sure.  His sacrifice will not be forgotten.  His total devotion to our cause will be honored long after our final victory.”

Agent 17 felt pride in having served with Agent 20, given the Boss’s glowing words.  “He was a good man.  I’m proud to have served with him.”

“Agent 17, you will be assigned a new partner in the morning.  I believe Agent 28 will be coming off assignment soon.  The two of you should be an adequate pairing for your next assignment.  For now, you must go back to the storehouse and make sure no one comes out alive, especially the Batman.”

Agent 17 grew nervous.  “Boss, that won’t be possible.  The cops are already on scene.  I couldn’t get in there now without a miracle.  And…Boss, it is my displeasure to report that the Batman and Robin survived the explosion.  They were carried out of the building by two other costumed freaks and taken to Gotham Mercy Hospital.  They looked to be in bad shape.  I can’t guarantee they didn’t learn anything about us before the explosion, but I can guarantee that they will not be a problem, at least for the next few days.  We can always speed up the timeline…”

“What do you know of the timeline?” The Boss snapped harshly, “No Agent over single digits knows the timeline, or the final endgame.  You are to worry about doing your job and I will worry about the timeline.  This is very disappointing news, Agent 17.  We will have to work at making our vests more powerful in the future, if the Batman and Robin are going to be hearty enough to survive our usual measures.  Return to your hideout, Agent 17.  Agent 28 will join you in the morning.  You will get new instructions in the next 24 hours.”

Agent 17 gulped, knowing that angering his boss was a good way to ensure he would never be eligible to use his retirement benefits.  “Yes, boss.  I apologize for our failure at the storehouse.  I will endeavor to improve my service to you.”

The Boss stated dryly, “Yes, you will.  I have been satisfied with your service so far, Agent 17.  I would hate to have to re-evaluate my stance on your position within the organization.”

Agent 17’s mouth and throat were dry.  “I beg your forgiveness, Boss.  5th and Johnson cannot be traced back to the organization.  Your name isn’t on any documents.  Even if anyone survived the blast, they can’t trace anything back to you.  Organization security is intact.  Heck, I’ve been working for you for three years, and I don’t even know your name.  No one in the storehouse even knew there was a higher level to the organization that their own level…”

“Agent 17, you are rambling.  I have already chosen not to kill you, at least not today.  You will get your new orders within 24 hours.”

“Yes, Boss.  I…”

It was too late, the line had already gone dead as the Boss hung up.  _Boy, that was a close one.  This plan better be worth it_.  _I’ll miss you 20, you were the best partner I’ve ever had._   Agent 17 walked down the street towards his apartment, but turned left instead of right, heading towards Chester’s Bar.  He needed a drink tonight to calm his nerves, and to honor his friend.

_Somewhere Secret…_

Agent 3 watched as his boss hung up the cell phone.  “Is the operation still secure, Boss?”

The Boss sighed, looking at the man walking next to him.  “For now, Agent 3.  The Batman is getting closer faster that I predicted.  Hopefully, Agent 17 is right, and we will have a few Bat free days.  We will put them to good use.  Please, would you make contact with Agent 6 for me?”

Agent 3 ran ahead, to the communications bunker, “At once, Boss.”

Arriving in the communications bunker, the Boss found Agent 6 on the big screen via videoconference link.  The man on the screen bowed respectfully and waited for the Boss to speak.

“Agent 6, I am forced to speed up your aspect of our plan.  Your business in Metropolis needs to be concluded before the end of the week, the sooner the better.”

The Agent on the screen looked nervous.  “Of course, Boss.  I have a window that I can exploit within the next thirty-six hours.  We can have our whole operation back in Gotham and under organizational control by the end of the day on Thursday.”

The Boss smiled, “That is acceptable, Agent 6.  There can be no slip-ups with your mission.  We lost a storehouse today.  I want you to replace it once you are back in Gotham.  I must also inform you of the loss of Agent 20.  I know the two of you worked together before.  Know that his sacrifice was for the cause and he died performing his duty without hesitation, as any Agent should.”

The Agent on the screen sniffed at the sad news.  Agent 6 had been Agent 20’s training officer when Agent 20 joined the organization.  Agent 20 had always showed promise; his loss would be deeply felt in the organization.  “Thank you for letting me know, Boss.  I am proud to have served with him.”

“Remember, end of the day Thursday.”

“It will be done, Boss.”

The boss walked out of the communications bunker, Agent 3 following in his wake.  The Boss didn’t look back; he knew Agent 3 would be there.

“Agent 3, get me everything we have on the Batman.  I will be in my quarters.”

Agent 3 stopped and turned around, returning to the Communications bunker, “At once, Boss.”

As he walked to his quarters, the Boss thought, _I didn’t anticipate the Batman getting so close so soon.  The loss of the storehouse is negligible, but it shows that Batman and Robin have some potential.  They may become a threat before this is over.  I must learn their true identities before I am forced to deal with them.  It will be satisfying to see their reactions when I reveal their secret identities just before I end their lives._

Agent 3 returned to the Boss before he had entered his chambers and handed over a thick file.  “This is everything we have on the Batman.  Mostly, it comes from news clippings, some dating back close to twenty years.  I have assigned Agent’s 14 and 15 to dig up more information for you.”

The Boss smiled as he took the thick file.  “Thank you, Agent 3.  I appreciate your initiative.  Have them report when they learn anything more.”

Agent 3 left with a bow as the Boss closed the door, sat down at his desk, and delved into the past exploits of the Dark Knight.

 

**A/N:  I know this is a bit shorter that what I usually put out, but since this is really Chapter 2 ½ and not really chapter 3, I think I can be excused.  I deserve it, you are getting two chapters in one day.  Any guess as to the identity of the Boss?  Anyone? Bueller? Bueller?  Nope, you’re wrong.  Especially anyone guessing Ra’s Al Ghul.  Read the details, this villain doesn’t know Batman’s identity, while Ra’s does.  Keep guessing, it will be revealed sometime in the next four chapters.  Keep reading, and sending me your thoughts on what I have let escape so far.  I want to know if I am heading in the right direction.**

**Disclaimer:  Do I really have to point out at this point that I don’t own anything?  Might as well.  No ownership is claimed here of the Bat Family.**


	4. 4

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 4

_The following takes place twenty hours after Dark Days, Black Nights, chapter 2._

 

Jason sat at Dick’s bedside in the recovery room and fought sleep.  The surgeon had finished Dick’s surgery almost an hour ago, but they wanted to transfuse one more unit of blood before Dick was transferred to his room.  According to the doctor, who was acutely scared of the pistols on Red Hood’s hips, the surgery was a success, and Batman would make a full recovery within a couple weeks.  The doctor then handed over a bag containing the three slugs, which were in incredibly good condition for having passed through a heavy layer of Kevlar before smashing through Dick’s chest.

He had returned to Dick’s surgical observation room two hours after Dr. Thompkins’ update had left Tim shattered in the other observation room.  He found Leslie still waiting in the observation room.

The older woman smiled at Jason as he entered.  “It’s good to see you again, Jason.  Bruce would be proud of the way you are handling your brothers.”

Jason was shocked at first, until he remembered that the doctor was one of the few people outside of the family who knew their true identities.  He removed his hood and smiled at the doctor.  “Tell me the truth, Doc: Are they really going to be alright?”

She nodded at the man, who she was currently remembering as the teen Robin.  “Yes.  They are in good hands.  Are you and Tim going to be okay?”

“We’ll hold it together.  Don’t really have much choice at the moment.”

She smiled again, “You had a choice, and you made it.”  She kissed Jason on the cheek before heading for the door, “I’m proud of you for making the right one.”

Now, a nurse and an orderly entered the recovery room, startling Jason as he was about to fall asleep.

“It’s just us, Mr. Hood.  We are here to take Batman to his room, now.”

They began to roll the bed out of the room as Jason stood and stretched.  He needed to sleep, but didn’t feel it would be a good idea right now.  Whoever did this was still out there, and they had no idea where to look to even begin to figure out who was responsible.

He yawned as he asked, “How is D…Robin doing?”

The medical staff looked at each other before the nurse replied, “He’s still in surgery.  At last report, everything was going well.”

Jason heard the unsaid ‘but’ as they pushed the unconscious hero down the hall.  He had to know.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m sorry, it’s not really our place to say.”

Jason started getting angry, “By all means, _say_.”

The nurse swallowed visibly.  “There have been some complications.  These are straightforward surgeries, and any one on its own would be very easy.  However, having all of them in a marathon session adds to the difficulty.  Also, these are time-consuming surgeries, but the surgeon has to hurry as much as possible because having the boy under anesthesia for almost a complete day, so far, can lead to brain damage and organ failure.  He’s doing the best he can, but the results of the individual surgeries may not matter if taking the time to do the surgeries right is just as damaging as doing no surgery at all.”

Jason came to a halt, stunned at the prospect of everything going right and losing Damian anyway. 

The nurse gave him a compassionate look, “I’m sorry, Mr. Hood.  There really is only so much we can do.”

Jason nodded, “Thank you for telling me.  Do me a favor, though.  Don’t tell Red Robin.  Let me take care of that.”

The nurse nodded as the orderly hooked up the monitors in Batman’s room.  The two left quickly as Jason sat down heavily next to the bed, head in his hands, and thought about how to break the news to Tim and Alfred.  _I just have to wait, for now.  Damian is a strong kid.  If anyone can defy the odds, it’s him._

Tim stood in the observation room, his head pressed against the glass, watching the surgery below.  Tim may be a genius, but he was not medically inclined.  Even so, he was beginning to think the surgery was taking too long.  Damian was all kinds of hurt, but twenty two hours, almost twenty three hours, in surgery?  Tim craved an update, but wasn’t sure he could handle it, if it was anything like Dr. Thompkins’ first update.  He had cried on Jason’s shoulder for the better part of an hour, needing a release and surprised that Jason had stayed that long.  Jason had stayed with him for another hour before returning to Dick, and Tim could honestly say that he may have misjudged the man.  Jason had a human side, he just kept it tightly in check.  Tim figured it was a defense mechanism, honed from being hurt one too many times in his early life.  He admitted to himself that he liked the older man when he let his guard down.  _Maybe we could be a close family, after all._

He had put the cowl back on soon after Jason left, feeling that he could use the mask to hide his feelings.  It didn’t help him, but it kept the hospital staff from asking too many questions when they came to check on him and offer him food and drink.  He had accepted a sandwich, which was unfortunately delivered as the surgeon below began to cut out the remains of Damian’s knee before implanting the artificial replacement.  Tim’s stomach was growling at him for attention, but he didn’t know how he could ever keep food down again after what he had seen in the past day.

Finally, twenty four hours after beginning, the surgeon stepped back from the operating table, letting the surgical assistant close the final wound, and took off his gloves and mask.  The man stretched and walked to the scrub room to wash up as the assistant and nurse prepped Damian for the recovery room.  As Tim saw Damian wheeled out of the operating room, an orderly knocked softly before entering the observation room to lead Red Robin to the recovery room.

Damian, still unconscious and dressed in a hospital gown and his green eye mask, looked weak and pale as the nurse cleaned and scrubbed the small body.  She made sure the dressings on the wounds were clean and dry before leaving to find an orderly.

Tim approached the bed of his sometime nemesis and whispered, “Oh, Damian.  If there were ever a time when I actually wanted to hear you insult me, now is it.  I just wish there were something I could do for you, even though you would never accept my help.”

The nurse and orderly entered to take the young hero to Batman’s room, which could accommodate two beds.  Tim saw Jason quickly stand up next to Dick’s bed as they wheeled Damian in and hooked up his monitors.  The nurse and orderly left quickly, but not before letting the room’s occupants know that the doctor would be in every hour to check on the patients.

As the door closed, Jason sat back down tiredly and took off his helmet.  Tim stood next to Dick’s bed, seeing him for the first time since they entered the hospital yesterday.  Overall, he didn’t look too bad.  Dick’s color had returned and he was breathing without difficulty.

Tim looked back at Jason.  “Has he woken up yet?”

Jason didn’t look up.  He shook his head, not looking at the teen.  “Not yet.  Tim, there is something I should tell you.  Demon Brat…Damian may not be out of the woods yet.  The nurse told me there could be permanent damage from the surgery.”

Tim nodded slowly, confused.  “I know.  Dr. Thompkins told us that.”

Jason continued, “She did.  However, the nurse told me that it’s possible he may never wake up, and if he does, it is possible that he…he won’t be the same.  There could be brain damage, organ damage, he could be a vegetable.  We won’t know until he wakes up.”

Tim looked close to tears again.  He opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say, so he closed his mouth again.

Jason looked the younger in the eye.  “I wanted to be the one to tell you.  We’ll get through this.  Now we have another reason to get these bastards.”

Tim sat down heavily, almost falling out of the chair.  He whispered, “Bruce never would have let this happen.”

Jason heard the remark, but let it go because he knew it was the truth.  Tim needed his release, so Jason let him vent.  He expected more, but Tim left it where it was.  Tim looked back at Damian, wondering what would be left of his little brother.  Would he ever get the chance to fix their relationship, or to even begin one?

A silent hour later, there was a soft knock on the door before a doctor entered.  He quickly checked the vital signs of the two patients before leaving the tension-filled room.  After another thirty minutes, as both Jason and Tim were dozing off in their chairs, a low moan escaped from Dick.  Instantly, both heroes were awake and standing next to the young Batman as he began to stir and regain consciousness.

“Owwwwwww.”  Dick opened his eyes, squinting against the bright lights.  Slowly, his eyes focused on his younger brothers, and a soft smile crossed his lips.  “What happened?”

Jason replied first, smiling, “You got blown up, Big Bird.  Took half a building with you, too.”

Dick looked shocked, “Only half?  I must have had an off day.  What did I hit?  My chest is killing me.”

Tim looked subdued, but responded, “Not anymore, it isn’t.  You were shot; it penetrated the armor.  Looks like Damian saved your life by trying to stop the bleeding.”

Dick was shocked again.  He didn’t remember any of it.  He also didn’t see Damian.  “He did, did he?  Where is my little Baby Bat?”

Tim and Jason looked at each other, then Jason moved out of the way, letting Dick see Damian for the first time.  Dick gasped as he saw the boy, arm and one leg casted, the other leg immobilized in a traction rig, tubes and lines snaking from the boy to several machines.  Unconsciously, Dick grabbed both Tim’s and Jason’s hands, needing the physical contact to assure himself it wasn’t a nightmare, but not-so-secretly hoping it was.

“How did this happen?” Dick managed to gasp.

Tim answered again, sitting down next to the bed and wrapping both hands around Dick’s.  “We don’t know for sure, but I can at least tell you what it looked like when we arrived.  When we got there, I followed a drag mark through the grime.  It started in an office, went through a wall, and ended twenty feet away, where he crawled with a broken wrist, obliterated knee, shattered ribs, punctured lung, and severe concussion to attempt to stop your bleeding.”

Dick winced at the description, but smiled, thinking _He did all that, to help me?  He’s starting to care about others than himself.  That’s my boy._   “What do the doctors say?”

Jason took over.  “He’s not doing well.  We won’t know anything until he wakes up, if he wakes up.  He spent 24 hours in surgery, beat you by four hours, and Dr. Thompkins suggested that he retire as Robin.”

Dick looked back at Tim and smiled as he saw the teen, still holding his hand, had fallen asleep, resting his head on the bed.  He turned back to Jason and whispered, “How long have the two of you been here, and awake?  And what did he mean by obliterated knee?”

Jason smiled at his replacement before responding.  “Baby Bird called me after receiving the Brat’s emergency locator beacon.  We found you at the warehouse and brought you here, carried you here, we couldn’t wait for an ambulance in your condition.  I’m going on 36 hours awake, Timmy is probably going on less sleep.  As for the knee, it was completely destroyed.  He had to have a complete knee replacement.  Dr. Thompkins should be in soon, she can explain everything to you.  You need to get it all down, I’m sure the Brat will want to hear his condition from you.”

Dick shook his head slowly.  “I don’t know what to say.  Thank you, Jay.”

Jason gave a rare smile, then patted Dick on the shoulder.  “Get some rest, Dickiebird.  We’re going to need you if we’re going to find out who is behind this.”

“Thanks, Little Wing.”  Dick settled back into the bed as Jason left to get Dr. Thompkins and let her know that Dick was finally awake.

While he was gone, Batgirl came into the room and sat down in the chair Jason had vacated.  “Hello, Steph.”

“How are you feeling, Dick?”  She looked concerned, but relieved to find him conscious.  She seemed interested in the response, but kept glancing at Damian.

Dick followed her glances with a worried look.  “I’ve been better.  I don’t think _he_ can get much worse.  The doctor should be in in a few minutes.”

Stephanie looked crestfallen, but was determined to keep it together because she was in uniform.  “Oracle wanted to come, and Agent A is beside himself with worry, but they are both too recognizable to be seen here.”

Dick glanced at Tim, then back at Steph.  “By the way, where is ‘here’?  I have heard a lot of ‘here,’ but no one has said where ‘here’ is.”

Batgirl smiled, “You’re at Gotham Mercy Hospital.  It was only a block from the warehouse.  Oracle said Hood carried you while RR carried Robin.”

Batman was appreciative of the effort expended on their behalf.  “Do me a favor, will you?  Make sure Tim and Jay get home and get some sleep, please?  And make sure Alfie knows we’re okay.”

Stephanie picked up the phone next to the bed and started dialing the number for one of the secure lines in the cave.  She handed him the receiver and said, “I was told to have you call him the second you woke up, and he outranks you.”

Dick smiled as he took the phone to talk to Alfred.  Stephanie got up and moved to the other side of Damian’s bed, looking the boy over, wanting to cry again at the sight.

Tim woke up with a start as Dick hung up the phone.  He was confused for a second as he saw Steph instead of Jason, but stood and stretched as Jason and Dr. Thompkins came in.  He really wanted to get out of his uniform, the same one he had been wearing for close to 48 hours, and take a hot shower.

Dr. Thompkins opened her mouth to speak, but Dick spoke up first.  “Little Wing, Baby Bird, you have both done something special, and I am eternally grateful, but you are both relieved.  Go home, get some sleep, and for God’s sake, take a shower.  Jay, Alfie is expecting you at home, don’t make him hunt you down.  Your bed is waiting in your room.  I expect you to be there when I am released.”

Jason smirked, “I expect to be _here_ when you are released.  Someone has to drive you home and tuck you in.  Right now, I’m too tired to argue, and I could use a good meal.  Come on, Burger Boy, let’s see what’s cooking.”  Tim was too tired to comment about the name as he followed the taller man out of the room.

Leslie placed a hand on Dick’s arm.  “Thank you, Dick.  I was wondering how to get them out of here to get some rest.  They haven’t left your side since they brought you in.  Very little sleep, refused to eat, those boys really care about the two of you.”

Dick patted the hand that was still on his arm.  “Tell me, Leslie, how is Damian?  How is he really?  They told me he saved my life.  I would hate it if he couldn’t hold it over me later.”

Leslie smiled, then sighed, “He is not doing well at all.  We’ll know more once he wakes up, but my original recommendation to Jason and Tim still stands: Damian should quit while he is still above ground.  That knee replacement will inhibit him for the rest of his life.  He is lucky they could save the leg at all, don’t push him to continue as Robin.”

Dick shook his head, “I don’t think I can stop him.  He’s just as stubborn as his father.  As soon as he is walking again, he will start training again.  I will do my best to have him take it slow, but if I try to stop him, he will just go out on his own, run away if he has to.  Face it, the Bat is in his blood.  I wish I could stop him, give him a chance at a normal childhood, but he won’t have it.  He enjoys being Robin too much.”

Leslie shook her head.  “I figured you would say that.  Like I said, it may not matter.  I pray he recovers, and I am always optimistic, but the numbers are not in his favor at this point.  We will keep checking on him, but there is really nothing we can do until he wakes up.”

Stephanie, forgotten by the other two in the corner of the room, was holding Damian’s hand.  The kid really wasn’t that bad, he just didn’t have any experience at being a kid.  Hearing the update, Steph finally lost it.  She attempted to remain forgotten, but couldn’t keep her sobs to herself.  She couldn’t help herself, she was just an old softy.  She couldn’t stand it if Damian wasn’t able to recover.

Leslie watched the Batgirl surreptitiously, then turned back to Dick.  “Get some rest.  Batgirl will watch out for you.  I’ll check back later.”  She got up and left quietly.

_Two Days Later…_

Dick woke up and looked around, a bit confused as to his location.  He soon remembered that he was still at Gotham Mercy Hospital.  Tim and Jason were back, and Jason was smiling.  In fact, he looked like he was trying to keep himself from busting out laughing as he looked at Dick.  Tim was smirking, as well, and Dick really wanted to be let in on the joke.

He looked over at Damian.  The boy was still unconscious, but he looked different.  Dick had to look twice before he noticed that his youngest brother was no longer wearing his hospital gown.  He had been dressed in a pair of hospital scrubs, obviously by his smirking brothers.  _A pair of scrubs printed to look like a Batman suit_.

Tim explained, “We saw a nurse wearing a similar pair and asked where we could get some.  He told us about a supply store next to the hospital, so we had to pick up a couple pairs.”

_A couple pairs?_   Dick asked, “What do you mean, a couple…”  Dick looked down at himself.  _Just as I thought, they got me some, too._   “Really, guys?  All the pranks in the world, and this is what you came up with?”

Dick was dressed in a set of Wonder Woman printed scrubs, complete with printed cleavage and printed skirt and legs on the pants. 

Jason was holding his sides with laughter.  “I wanted to go for the Robin print for you, but they didn’t have your preferred Robin costume.  You know, with the scaly shorts?”

Dick smirked, “Remember, it was your costume at one time, too.”

Tim snorted with laughter, the banter reminding him of better times.  He had seen pictures of both of the older men in the Robin suit as teens.  He was eminently glad he had insisted on pants when he was Robin, much less material for ridicule that way.

Dick looked back at Damian.  “Well, at least you were smart enough to get him something he won’t complain about.”

Jason looked back at the unconscious boy.  “I wanted to get him Aquaman, but…”

Tim interrupted, “But I thought he had been through enough punishment as it is.  We want him to heal, right?  No sense in him trying to jump out of bed to kill us before he is fully able.”

Dick nodded.  “Right, it wouldn’t be any fun if we could get away by just walking, or taking a large step to the side.”

Dr. Thompkins came in the room, her heart warmed at the sight of the three brothers in such good spirits.  Then, she saw Dick’s scrubs.

She glared at Jason and Tim.  “Oh, for Pete’s sake!  I thought you said you were getting something tasteful, something that would cheer him up.”

Dick laughed, “They did.  Little D got tasteful, and I sure am much more cheerful now.  Hey, Leslie, when can I get out of here?  I’m going stir crazy here, and I…We have a gang to put away.”

She was back to business at the question.  “You seem to be recovering nicely.  I don’t see any reason to keep you here much past tomorrow morning, but no Caped Crusading for at least the rest of the week, doctor’s orders.”

Dick nodded.  “I think I can handle that.  There is way too much research to do right now anyway.  I think I can easily spend the rest of the week in the cave trying to find out who these guys are and what they are doing in Gotham.  Besides, I need to spend some time here, too.  Can’t leave the little one alone.”  He hesitated, then asked, “What’s his prognosis, Doc?”

Leslie picked up his chart to see what updates were noted overnight.  “Let’s see…Blood count is good…No signs of infection…Cranial swelling has reduced to normal…Lung seems to be holding together…He is scheduled for another set of x-rays in about an hour to check how the bones are healing.  I’d say, if he would just wake up, he would be close to out of the woods.  Once he’s awake, we can see what he really needs.”

“I need a glass of water.”

The room fell silent as four heads whipped in the direction of the soft voice.  His eyes were still closed, but Damian was moving his head in the direction of the rest of the room’s occupants.  He held out his left hand for the cup, then pulled it back with a wince as he stretched the still-healing muscles around his ribs.

“Damian, you’re awake?”  Dick sounded hopeful, and wanted to get out of bed to get to his brother.  He couldn’t, because he was still hooked up to his monitors, which were showing his accelerated heart rate.

He opened his eyes a crack, taking in the room around him blurrily.  “Water, please?  Unless this is a nightmare, then, yes, I’m awake.”

Leslie poured a cup from the small pitcher at the bedside and held it to the child’s lips, letting him take small sips.  He nodded, whispered a ‘thank you’, and settled back for a minute before continuing, his eyes still closed.  “I assume my condition is just as bad as I feel?”

Leslie was back in ‘Dr. Thompkins’ mode.  “I don’t know, Damian.  Why don’t you tell us how you feel?”

“I hurt.  I can’t move my right leg, and we need to do something about these cracked ribs.  Where am I?  How long have I been out?”

“You’re at Gotham Mercy Hospital.  You have been in and out of surgery, where we repaired your ribs and immobilized your leg, along with fixing other injuries.  You have been unconscious for the past four days.  For as bad as you were when you came in, you seem to be healing well.”

He sighed, “Tt.  Of course.  I _am_ able to heal at an accelerated rate, thanks to Mother’s genetic engineering.”  Then, in a more subdued tone, “How bad was it?”

She shook her head, “Bad, but we can get to that later.”

Dick spoke up, “Not even going to ask how your partner is, or how you got to the hospital?”

“I heard you talking and laughing a minute ago, when I first woke up, so I assumed you to be okay.  As to how we got here, I assumed the signal from the emergency beacon was received, and the ‘B’ team was able to assist.”

Jason leaned over to Tim, “The B team?  What do you have to say about your choice now?”

Tim whispered back, “Definitely should have gone with Aquaman.”

Damian opened his eyes fully for the first time, raising his head to glare at his Boy Wonder predecessors.  “What are you two cackling about over there?”

Dick answered, “They helped you get a promotion, Little D.  They just didn’t know which one to give you.”

Tim muttered to Jason, “And a little gratitude wouldn’t be out of line, right?”  Jason nodded.

Damian didn’t seem to hear the exchange, but was looking down, confused.  _What does he mean, promotion?_   He glanced over at the feminine form covering Dick’s scrubs, then down at his own.  A yellow Bat Symbol stared back from his chest, “Oh, right.  Well, it was bound to happen at some time.”

Dick chuckled.  _Just out of a coma, and he can still act imperious and entitled.  Never change, Little D, I’m just glad to have you back._

An orderly came in to take Damian for his x-rays while Dick sat up, testing out his balance.  Four days in bed left him a bit wobbly, but his strength would return soon.  Leslie reminded him that he couldn’t leave until tomorrow morning, and made Tim and Jason promise to keep him in the hospital until she let him go.  They agreed, far more scared of her than of Dick.

Now that they were both awake, Dick sent Jason and Tim back to the cave to start working on tracking down the cell.  The news report claimed that crime had risen in the past few days, and that Batman was mysteriously absent from Gotham.  The Gotham Police were running themselves ragged, picking up the slack.  They were even more in the dark as to the identity of the new crew in town.  Only the warehouse bombing had left any sort of clue, but each new answer led to three more questions, each one more puzzling than the last.

_The Next Morning…_

Dick was up and pacing around their small hospital room, only a slight limp showed any sign he had been injured.  Tim had promised to pick him up at nine, and Batgirl promised to sit with Damian while he rested and recovered.

The x-rays from the day before were promising.  The skull crack was gone.  The ribs were healing nicely.  The wrist and foot were going to take a few more weeks, but didn’t look serious.  The implanted knee joint was fusing nicely, and the doctors agreed that Damian would be up and walking with a cane inside of four months. 

Of course, Damian planned to be back in his role as Robin far sooner than that.

Dick had told him about the knee replacement last night.  Damian had taken it well, like a good little soldier.  Dick could tell that Damian was hiding more under the surface.  Damian had tried to roll over, away from Dick, but couldn’t.  He had closed his eyes.  Dick wanted to tell him to just let it out, but he knew Damian would scoff and say there was nothing to let out.  _Maybe it’s because we are still in the hospital?_

Close to midnight, Dick had sat on the edge of Damian’s bed and looked over his brother.  He brushed the hair, longer than he had ever seen Baby Bat wear it, out of the sleeping boy’s face as he caressed his cheek.  “You’ll be okay, Little D.  I’ll make them pay for this.  When you are at my side again, we will make them suffer, the way you’re suffering.  I promise, we will make it slow and painful, and it won’t be over until you say it is.”

At five minutes past nine, Tim arrived, in full Red Robin uniform.  “Sorry, I’m late.  You ready to go?”

“I guess so.  I had hoped D would be up before I left, though.  I told him I’m going home today, but I just wanted to make sure he would be okay until Steph arrives.”

“I’m up, have been for hours.”  Damian didn’t bother opening his eyes.

Dick smirked, “Sure you are.  That’s why you were snoring five minutes ago?”

“Tt, whatever.  Did you tell Batgirl to bring me a book?  This place is boring.”

Dick replied, “Yes, I told her to bring you a book.  I suggested _The Cat in the Hat_ , but left the final decision up to her.”

Tim smirked, “ _The Cat in the Hat?_   I told her to bring _Fifty Shades of Grey_.”

Dick slapped Tim’s arm, “You didn’t.  What kind of brother are you?”

Tim smiled, “After reading it myself last month, I would say a pretty good one.”

Dick shook his head, “He’s _ten_ , remember?”

Damian sighed, “Already read it.  I don’t see what the big fuss is all about.”

Dick laughed, “You will, in a couple years.”

“Whatever, you may go, Grayson.”  He pointed to the Bat symbol on his chest, still not looking at either man standing by the door.  “Your Batman has spoken.”

Tim laughed silently.  Dick walked down to the nurse’s station to sign himself out, and Tim turned to follow him, when a voice came from back in the room, “Drake!”

Tim walked back into the room.  Damian was propping himself up on an elbow and looking at the older teen.  “Shut the door, please.”

Tim shut the door as Damian continued.  “Grayson told me that it was you who executed our rescue.  I also heard what you whispered to Todd yesterday, and I let it go because of what you did for me.  I’m not accustomed to showing it or expressing it, but I do feel it.  Thank you for coming.  Thank you for not letting our past interfere with our duty.  I am grateful that you are the person you are, Timothy Drake.  And if you ever tell anyone I said any of this, I will throw you off the dinosaur again, and this time I’ll make sure the dinosaur is next to one of the drop-offs in the cave.”

Tim looked shocked, more at the gratitude than the death threat.  He couldn’t think of anything to say, but he nodded and smiled at his younger brother, and that was enough for both of them.  Damian nodded back as Tim exited the room.  He looked out the window a minute later and saw both men get into the Batmobile and drive off.

 

**A/N:  I hope to have chapter five ready in a couple days, with the big reveal now looking like it will come in chapter six.  Now that the story is fleshed out a little more, it is looking like I can complete it in ten to fifteen chapters, depending on how much I want to put into it.  Time-wise, I think I can look at this being completed around the end of February or the beginning of March.  Of course, all timelines are subject to change.**

**Standard Disclaimer: Na na na na na na na na, Na na na na na na na na, Not Mine!  This story is mine, but the characters are not.  (And if you sing it out, 16 ‘Na’s are the correct number for a 1966 theme song refrain).**

**I have heard a couple good guesses as to the identity of the mystery villain, but none are even close.  Remember, I said historical Batman villain.  The guesses I have had so far have not even been in the right half of the 20 th century.  I’m talking old, people, but I guess I can give one more hint.  This character will only tangentially resemble his original characterization.  In fact, other than the name, he will have very little in common with his original self.**

**Okay, not much of a hint, but it should be enough to keep you coming back for more.**


	5. 5

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 5

_The following takes place one week after Dark Days, Black Nights chapter 4._

“RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON!  You had better have a good excuse for not meeting me last night!”

Barbara Gordon wheeled herself out of the elevator and into the Bat Cave.  Dick stood at the Bat-Computer, half turned towards the elevator, and frozen like a deer in the headlights.  Tim, who had been standing next to Dick, was slowly edging himself out of the line of fire and trying to find a dark corner where he could watch without anyone commenting on his presence.

“Barb?  What are you talking about?  We didn’t have a date last night.”

The woman rolled right up to the standing man, front wheel of her wheelchair stopping on his right foot.  “You called me on Monday and asked me to meet you for dinner last night.  Said you were out of the hospital and wanted to see me…”

He looked down at the woman currently crushing his toes, “…And you turned me down.  You told me you had plans with your dad.  As much as I hate hearing your ‘No’s, I have come to accept them.  Besides, you don’t get to see your dad much, and since you are the only person in this cave who still has a dad, you should spend the time with him.”

Barbara rolled off of Dick’s foot, much to his relief.  “Then why did you go and make other plans?  Every time you ask me out, you already have reservations at that terrible Italian restaurant that you think impresses me because the waiter can speak twelve words of Italian.  You didn’t show up last night.”

Dick blushed.  He did have a habit of going to the same restaurants, he just didn’t know it was that noticeable.  “Did you go to the restaurant with your dad last night?  How would you know I wasn’t there?”

She looked away, but not before he noticed her blushing as well.  “Never mind that…Oh, whatever.  Dad had to cancel last night because he had to work.  I figured I would surprise you, since that is where you were supposed to be.  Just where were you, anyway?”

_We didn’t have a date, why do I feel guilty?_   He chuckled, then thought better of it, considering she was sitting at the right height to give him an elbow to his groin.  “Barb, you said no.  I cancelled the reservation and did something much more useful with my evening than sit around a restaurant hoping you would show up, which, by the way, is something you have never done before.  Tim was starting to crack up with all the extra work lately, so I kidnapped him and took my brother to dinner and a movie.  Trying to get him to rest is next to impossible, so I had to ambush him.”

“Hey!  I’m not that bad, am I?”  Tim walked back into the light to defend himself, feeling it was safe to be seen again, now that the argument was over.  He had to admit, he had been known to overwork himself, and the distraction had helped greatly.

“Sorry you showed up for nothing, Barb.  I guess that means you should start saying yes when I call for a date.”  Dick grinned slyly at the woman.

“Or, maybe you should just stop calling for dates.”  She returned the grin as she rolled closer to the computer.  “Have you found anything yet?”

Tim sat back down at the keyboard and started calling up search results.  “Maybe, but everything is circumstantial so far.  We traced the bullets to an underground specialty arms manufacturer in South East Asia.  The only problem is, the suspected arms maker was arrested by Interpol in 1978 and convicted of war crimes dating back to World War Two.  He was reported to have died in prison in 1985.  There have been rumors that the business was picked up by either a rival competitor, or an apprentice, but nothing has been substantiated.  The bullets definitely were not created before 1978.  The machine processes used to make this kind of ammunition didn’t exist before 1998, so we can rule out old stock.”

Barbara poked Dick, “He doesn’t sound like he’s cracking up.  Your night out must have done some good, after all.”

Tim rolled his eyes as Dick replied, none too quietly, “Hush, you know how sensitive little Timmy is.  He’s just getting to the good part.”

“If I can continue?”  Tim said without turning around.  When he got no reply from the silently giggling pair behind him, he continued.  “Thank you.  The autopsies on the goons in the warehouse didn’t turn up anything.  Most were identified as local goons or thugs-for-hire who obviously found better employers.  There are a couple who are still unidentified, including the bomber.  However, we have been able to trace the explosive from the chemical markers.  The vest consisted of ten pounds of C-4, pretty average for a device of this size.  There were no signs of IED materials used; no nails, ball bearings, spikes, or anything like that.  This device was meant to cover up evidence, not create more evidence.  It’s my theory that Batman and Robin got too close to something, and the device was triggered to make sure there was no one who could talk to give away any secrets.”

Barbara rolled forward, “Wait a minute.  Are you thinking that the bomber _intentionally_ took out his own men, in order to keep their group hidden?”

Dick laid a hand on her shoulder, “That’s exactly what we think.  I don’t remember much of that night, but I do remember that the goons kept coming.  Every time we got close to finishing the fight, more came in.  Someone was watching, maybe more than one someone.  When they saw that Little D and I weren’t going down easily, they put a permanent end to it.”

Barbara was stunned, “How can they just order someone to commit suicide?”

Tim answered, “If they are true believers in the cause, they probably didn’t have to order anyone to do anything.  Fundamentalists do it all the time, for the glory of advancing the cause.”

She looked over at the teen, “Is that what you’re thinking?  A fundamentalist cell is setting up in Gotham?”

Tim shook his head, “A fundamentalist cell, using military-grade explosives, stolen from a U.S. Army post two years ago?  No, it doesn’t fit the evidence.  There would have been some sort of announcement.  Someone would have come forward on the internet bragging that they had taken the Batman off the streets in the name of…whatever their cause is.  Besides, a fundamentalist cell wouldn’t want such a close connection to the government as to use stolen Army supplies.”

“Are you sure it’s American C-4?” she asked.

Tim nodded, “One hundred percent.  The chemical markers match a batch of C-4 that was stolen from a military convoy two years ago.  However, the report states that the convoy was never robbed.  Best guess anyone could come up with was that it was a clerical error, and the stock was never loaded on the trucks.  The report was later amended to state the explosives ‘went missing’.  No mention of where they could have gone.  A year later, there were three discharges issued to the soldiers in charge of the convoy.  The military found evidence that they had stolen and sold the C-4, but the evidence never found its way into the official record, there was never any unusual activity in any of the soldiers banking accounts, and their records were sealed and ‘misfiled’ after separation.  I still haven’t been able to get copies of the soldier’s service files, or even the soldier’s names, just that they once existed and may have been complicit with the theft of close to 100 pounds of high explosive.”

Barbara shook her head slowly.  “That is a lot of conjecture.  How can we be sure that any of this has to do with the bombing in Gotham, or with a shadowy organization that may or may not exist?”

Tim smiled grimly, “Because the C-4 was here.  The only concrete proof of anything so far is the chemical markers found in the traces of left-over explosive.  It proves that the theft took place, which means that the three soldiers are, or were, real.  Which means that, whoever is running this has recruited from the military, and has been active for at least two years.”

“Or, that the explosives were stolen, and could have been sold to anyone or every one over the past two years.”  Dick ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated at the lack of any concrete proof.

Tim leaned back from the computer, just as frustrated, “Yeah, I was hoping you wouldn’t see that, admittedly, glaring hole in the facts.  Whoever these guys are, they’re good at hiding.”

Dick grabbed Tim’s shoulders in a sign of support, “Not for long, Baby Bird, not for long.”

The alarm on Dick’s watch started to beep.  He silenced the alarm and looked at the time.  “Sorry to cut this short, but I told Little D that I would visit him at the hospital today.  Tim, I like where this is going.  Keep at it, sooner or later we’ll make the right connection.  Barb, thanks for coming by.  You should turn me down more often.”  She grinned as Dick headed for the locker room.

Damian was still in Gotham Mercy Hospital, listed as Robin on the hospital registry.  That meant, as annoying as it had become, any Bat visitors had to come in uniform to keep the Boy Wonder’s identity intact.  Dick was suited up and heading out in the Batmobile in ten minutes, wishing the whole way he could just take the Porsche, the one car of Bruce’s that had always been his favorite.  The car had seen far more use since Bruce’s death than it ever had during his life, and that always made Dick feel a little guilty.  He missed Bruce like crazy, but he loved that car.

Arriving at the hospital, he greeted Dr. Thompkins as she exited Damian’s room.

“Ah, good morning Di…Batman.  You should be happy to know that Robin is doing quite well.  His recovery is ahead of schedule.  Physical therapy began on his right knee yesterday, and while he is still having pain, he can control moving the knee now, which is excellent progress.”

Dick smiled despite the cowl.  “Can he stand yet?”

She shook her head, “Not yet, but that is more a symptom of the broken foot than the repaired knee.  It’s just going to take time.”

Batman nodded, “How about the ribs? And his lung, is his lung capacity better?”

Leslie checked the notes in the chart.  “Ribs have healed completely, which is incredible.  I guess there really is something to his genetically modified healing after all.  Lung capacity is still less than we would like, but it is steadily increasing.”

“Has he had any other visitors?  I’m sorry I haven’t been able to come for a couple days.”

“You should tell that to him, he seemed pretty disappointed when you didn’t show up yesterday.”

Dick grimaced, “He actually showed disappointment?  Wow, I messed up there.”

“Only visitors have been Red Hood, Batgirl, and yourself.  Reports say that Red Hood tends to show up at night and leave before Robin wakes up.  Maybe we did something right with him, after all?”

Dick said quietly, more to himself, “Jay, you never cease to surprise me.”

Leslie smiled warmly as Dick walked away and entered Damian’s room, closing the door behind him.  It had become a routine at the hospital; when the door was closed, only a code blue would justify entering without knocking and being invited to enter.

Dick stopped at the door and watched the scene before him.  Damian was asleep in his bed, snoring softly.  The television was on, showing a rerun of The Rifleman.  Dick smiled, remembering how often Bruce and he had sat on the couch on Saturday mornings to watch the show.  Bruce had called it one of his favorites, and Dick could rarely remember him watching anything else, other than the news.  Dick sat in the chair next to the bed, watching the television and absently running his fingers through Damian’s hair. 

At the next commercial break, Damian woke up and looked around the room groggily.  He mumbled, “What’s going on?” his voice soft and more accented than usual.  Dick smiled, but didn’t say anything about the accent, having been punched once for pointing it out in the past.

Damian’s eyes focused on Dick, and it seemed to take a second for him to see the man inside the uniform.  He turned back to the t.v. before speaking.

“Hello, Grayson.  I guess I should be happy you decided to grace me with your presence today.”  His voice, while not quite bitter, definitely held a sharp tone. 

Dick was on the defensive, not a usual position for someone dressed as Batman.  “Good morning.  If you wanted me to visit yesterday, then why didn’t you say so?  Every other time, it seemed like you couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.  Besides, weren’t Jay and Steph here yesterday?”

“No.”  Damian looked away, wishing he hadn’t said anything.  _He always has a way of getting me to say more than I want to._

“I’m sorry, D.  I didn’t realize… Steph said she was coming to give you another book.”  _I will have to talk to her about that,_ he thought.

“Well, she didn’t, and I have been forced to watch this idiot box since I finished my book two days ago.”  _Can’t we get off this subject, now?_

“I see.  You picked a good show to watch, though.”

_Thank you_.  Damian looked back at the screen as the black and white western came back from commercial.  “You have seen this one before?”  Dick nodded.  “I’m not sure I understand the premise of this program.  Can you explain something to me?”

Dick was surprised.  Damian never asked for help, not even when confined to a hospital bed.  “I can give it a try.  What’s so confusing?”

“Okay.  This man is living with his son, and so far every episode has presented some moral dilemma as a situation for the man to teach his son the right and wrong way to live, right?”

Dick nodded.  “That’s the show, in a nutshell.  Lucas McCain is trying to teach his son, Mark, that being compassionate and helpful towards your fellow man is the better way to live.  It’s set in a time where that was not always possible, in order to show the effects your decisions can have on your life.  It seems to me like you have the basic concept down.  What is your question?”

Damian nodded at the screen, currently showing the Marshal assembling a posse to chase down an escaped criminal.  “My question is: Why do most of his solutions consist of shooting someone, if he’s trying to teach his son that violence is not the right answer?”

Dick laughed aloud.  He had asked Bruce the same question when he was younger than Damian.  Bruce hadn’t been able to come up with a good answer, either.

Damian continued.  “And, he claims to be just a rancher, but the way he walks around North Fork, you would get the idea that he is really the Sheriff.  It seems like people tend to fear and respect him, and follow whatever he says, just because he’s a tall and imposing figure, and he carries the biggest weapon in town.”

Dick couldn’t stop laughing.  He had almost the exact conversation with Bruce as a child.  _I guess I get to pass down the wisdom that was passed to me now._   “Damian, can you think of anyone else that can use height and an imposing figure to spread fear and earn respect around town?”  Dick tapped his head, still wearing the pointed cowl.  Damian nodded, getting the picture a little too suddenly.

“As for the other questions, I don’t know how many episodes you have seen so far.  Have you studied the American West much?” Damian shook his head, surprising Dick.  _Then again, not much military strategy came out of the American West._   “It was a time of great lawlessness.  You could literally get away with murder if you could find the slightest justification that proved you right.  Yes, Lucas McCain killed a lot of people, but it was never a first resort of action.  He was deputized many times to help uphold the law.  You might say, he was the first Batman, just with more rifles and horses and killing.”

Damian thought for a while.  The two settled back to watch the episode, now nearing its end.  Damian unconsciously inched closer to Dick, still sitting in a chair next to the hospital bed.

At the end of the episode, as the credits rolled, Damian asked another question.  “Why did they make the son such a wimp?  He starts crying and having a panic attack every time someone grabs his arm, and starts losing his mind when he’s left alone for more than twenty minutes at a time.”

Dick thought about it.  “You know, I had the same problem with the show.  The kid was only there to appeal to a younger audience, but he had to rely on his father to take care of him.  The world can be a tough place for a kid all alone.  As Dean Martin said, ‘Everybody needs somebody, sometime.’”

Damian cocked his head, “Dean Who?”

“Oh, Damian.  I have so much to teach you.”  Dick patted his charge’s knee, just above the cast.

They were silent for a while, Damian wondering if this Dean person was someone he had met, and why he didn’t remember.  He was usually very good with names and faces.

After a while, Damian asked, “Where did you watch so much of this show, to get the understanding down?”

Dick got up and sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping his cape around the boy and pulling him in close to his side.  “Little D, The Rifleman was one of your father’s favorite shows.  It may be the only thing I ever saw him watch, other than the news.  We would sit around on Saturday mornings and watch marathons, taking in the adventures of Lucas McCain and Mark.  It was one of the few times he allowed himself to relax, and we got to act like a family, at least for a couple hours.”

Damian looked away from the larger man and whispered, “I really didn’t know him at all, did I?”

Dick wanted to cry, “You weren’t given a chance.  He was taken so suddenly from us.  Alfred and I can help you with that, if you want.”

“Pennyworth?  I suppose he’s happy to have one less person in the manor to clean up after?”

Dick laughed, glad for the ice breaker.  “Actually, he always said you were the neatest of all of us.  With Tim and Jay spending so much time at the manor now, Alfie has had to work overtime to keep up.”

“I suppose they’ll leave once I’m released?”

_Was that a tone of regret in his voice?_   “Not until we put this gang, or organization, or syndicate, whatever they are, out of business.  We’re getting closer.  We may have a lead on the bullets and the explosives, but it is too soon to say anything definitively.”

Damian smirked, “You’ve had a week to track them down.  What have you been doing while I’m cooped up here?”

Dick smirked back, “Following doctor’s orders.  She said no night activities for a while.  So, we have been relaxing a bit, taking it slow, having fancy dinners, going to the movies.  You know, that sort of thing.”

Damian huffed, “I can see you need your new Batman back as soon as possible.”  Damian stuck out his chest, still wearing the scrubs Tim and Jason had bought.

Dick looked down at the garment.  “I hope you let the hospital staff wash those every once in a while.”

Damian looked down at the Bat symbol on his chest.  “Tt.  Of course.  One of the nurses also went and bought a couple more pairs.  She said she liked how they looked on me.  Another vote of confidence that I should be Batman.”

Dick laughed as there was a knock on the door.  He got up and opened the door, scaring the orderly on the other side with a Bat Glare.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for his PT.  Geez, no wonder you can get the criminals, with a look like that.”  Dick patted the man on the shoulder and allowed him in to the room.

As the orderly rolled the bed out of the room, Dick patted Damian’s shoulder and said, “I’ll come back tonight.  And, I’ll make sure Batgirl brings that book.”

Damian nodded as Batman left.

_Meanwhile, back at the Batcave_

Dick pulled the Batmobile onto the turntable, talking to Batgirl on the communicator.

“Yes, but Steph, you promised him you would show up.  He is feeling really left out right now, and he needs people to talk to…No, he finished the book already.  You promised him you would bring him another one…Okay…When you go, maybe you could sit with him for a few minutes?  I don’t know, talk to him about the book or something.  Just keep it upbeat, he’ll heal faster that way…I suppose he could talk to the doctors and nurses, but don’t you think he would feel better talking to someone who actually knows him as something other than Robin?...Thank you.  Talk to you later.”

Dick ripped off the cowl as he approached the computer.  Jason had arrived while Dick was gone, and Tim and Barbara were updating him on what they had found so far.  Dick pulled Jason aside for a quick word.

“Jay, do you think you could visit while he’s awake?  At least once?  What good does it do to visit someone when they don’t know you’ve been there?”

_How did he find out I was visiting Damian at night?_   “Sorry, Big Bird.  He’s much easier to visit when we aren’t arguing all the time.”

“Little Wing, I bet, if you gave it a try, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Dick, Jay!  I think I found something!”  Tim called from the computer.  The two older men walked over to check it out.

“I did some more digging into the bullets.  It turns out, I was wrong.  The arms maker kept coming up when I researched the bullets because he is credited with inventing the process of making the armor piercing rounds.  He tried to file a patent in Malaysia for the ammunition in 1976, but was refused because he was a fugitive from The Hague.  It was that patent filing that actually led to his eventual arrest.  His name was Hao Oshimaida.  He was basically the Dr. Mengele of the Japanese POW camps in World War Two.  Now, there were rumors during the war that the Japanese were using bullets that could shoot through our tanks, but they were never confirmed.  Armor piercing rounds existed in World War Two, but they were never reported in the Pacific Theater, and never in small arms calibers.  That didn’t come around until the mid-1980’s, and the type of rounds used on Dick weren’t common until the late 1990’s.”

Tim took a breath before continuing.  “Now, here is where it gets interesting.  Hao Oshimaida died in prison in 1985; that has been confirmed.  In 1987, a small import/export firm was established in Japan.  They are really just a small shipping company, but by 1990, they are doing millions of dollars in business annually, and they get a reputation for being able to transport anything, anywhere in the world, with a one hundred percent on-time rate, and they are never stopped by customs.  The name of this company is Oshimaida Industries.”

Dick stood up straight and gripped Barbara’s shoulder.  _Oshimaida Industries?  I know that name from somewhere, but where?_

Barbara grabbed his hand, he was hurting her.  “Dick?  Something you want to share with the class?”

The eyes of the other two turned to Dick.  “No, not yet, at least.  I know that name from somewhere, I just can’t place it.”

Jason slapped his back, “Think, Dick.  It may be important.  Keep going, Replacement, maybe you’ll jar his memory.”

Tim nodded.  “I may have the answer for you already, Dick.  I ran a search for Oshimaida Industries and any connection they may have with Gotham, and I got a hit.  The very first case where the Batman made the local papers involved Bruce breaking up an illegal arms shipment at the Gotham docks.  Those arms were meant for distribution to local thugs to start a gang war, at least, that was the assumption Bruce was operating under.  The guns came from the Russian Mafia, but the ship belonged to Oshimaida Industries.  That shipment was the first in the history of Oshimaida Industries to mar their perfect delivery record, and it almost put them out of business.  Gotham was, and still is, a breeding ground for the criminal element.  Gangs from around the world come here to test themselves and open branch factions at the same speed that Starbucks opens new coffeehouses.  That bust put Oshimaida Industries on Batman’s radar, and, apparently, Batman on Oshimaida’s radar.”

Dick shook his head, “So, you’re saying, Oshimaida Industries is targeting us?  What for?  This can’t all be for stopping some criminal arms shipment back in the day?”

Tim looked up at Dick, “No, I don’t think so, either.  In fact, I don’t think we are the target at all.  I think Gotham itself is the target.  Think about it, a large city, conveniently located along traffic routes, we have our own ports, airports, overland shipping routes, a large criminal presence already exists here, the locals are used to crime in their neighborhoods, the police are basically ineffective at tackling the major organized crime.  I think they are looking at relocating their headquarters and expanding operations.”

Jason scoffed, “Oh, come on.  Any look at the Gotham Gazette would tell the whole story of Batman.  The police handle the small crime, while Batman looks into the big crimes and the big criminals.  Can they possibly think they can set up a new criminal enterprise right under our noses?”

Dick began to put the Batman into his voice.  “Well, they are here, so the obvious answer is yes.  Tim, look into the warehouse, see if we can get a copy of the rental agreement.  There has to be a name on there somewhere.  Do we know who is behind Oshimaida Industries?”

Tim shook his head, “Not yet.  They are a privately owned company.  I have feelers out, but nothing has come back so far.  We’ll keep looking.  They won’t get away from us, Dick.”

Dick nodded, checking his watch and heading for the locker room to change out of his Batman uniform.  “Keep at it, but after lunch.  You guys are doing good work.  They can’t run from us for long.”

 

**A/N:  Almost there, everyone.  The true reveal will come next chapter, as promised.  I wanted to have the conversation about The Rifleman as a stand-alone one-shot, but I couldn’t get it to work out as a full-fledged story.  I may come back to it at a later time, I’m not too sure yet.  I love that show.**

**Since it is coming in the next chapter, I will give the final hint as to his identity.  The villain is a doctor, inventor, and a calculating manipulator.  Could be anyone, right?  Plenty of villains match that description in the Batman universe, but you most likely have never heard of this one.**

**Standard Disclaimer: I don’t own The Batman or The Rifleman characters or properties.  Hao Oshimaida and Oshimaida Industries are figments of my imagination.  Any correlation or resemblance to any person or organization, living or dead, is purely coincidental.  And before you ask, looking up Hao Oshimaida or Oshimaida Industries will not get you any closer to the identity of my mystery villain.  I heard the name Oshimaida in an episode of NCIS and thought it would be a good name to throw into the story.**


	6. 6

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 6

_The following takes place on Saturday night, three days after Chapter 5._

“Good evening, Todd.  You’re a bit early tonight.”

Jason jumped out of the chair in which he had been napping.  _I thought the little Demon Brat was asleep._   As he took a deep breath to calm his nerves, he glanced at his youngest brother.  Damian had adjusted his bed so he was sitting up.  He also looked like he was uncomfortable.

_Well, might as well get this over with._   “I didn’t mean to wake you.  Uh, Dick wanted me to make sure you were okay.”

Damian smirked, then yawned, “No, he didn’t.  The nurse told me yesterday that you have been coming at night, always waiting until you were sure I was asleep.  Besides, if he had sent you, you would have called him ‘Dickiebird’ or ‘Bat-Two’ or something like that.  You also wouldn’t hang around all night if you were just ‘checking in’.”

Jason was too tired to banter.  “What do you want me to say, Demon Brat?  Am I not allowed to be concerned, too?”

Damian looked almost ashamed.  “Sorry.  I can’t say I would do the same thing if it was you in the bed, instead of me.  I guess you’re just a better person than I am.”

_Did he just apologize to me?  There must be something very wrong._ “Damian, I…”  Jason’s voice trailed off.  Dick and Stephanie had said Damian was different since his wounding.  Now, sitting here, watching the boy as he looked away and tried to compose himself, he was starting to believe it.  “Are you…Are you okay?  You look uncomfortable.”  _Maybe I should have phrased that differently._

Damian looked back, dark circles under his eyes.  “Its…Yes, I’m uncomfortable.  This cast itches like crazy.”  Damian was clawing at the plaster on his left leg, yet winced and sharply inhaled in pain every time he stretched his arm farther than mid-calf.

“I thought the doctor said your ribs were better?”

Damian winced again, “They are, but they still aren’t back to normal yet.  Doesn’t help that I slipped in physical therapy today and landed on that side.”

Jason was shocked.  “Wait a minute, you’re standing now?”

Damian shook his head, “No, they wanted me to try putting some weight on my new knee, to get used to the feeling.  I pushed a bit too hard and slipped out of the chair.  Didn’t break anything, but it sure didn’t feel good.  At least I am allowed to get out of this bed, even if it is only for an hour of therapy.”

He tried to pull his leg closer to his hand, “Why did they have to put the cast so high on my leg?  I broke my foot, not my ankle.”

Jason smiled as he took a pencil from the table next to the bed and handed it to the child.  Damian gave him a ‘what the hell am I supposed to do with this’ look.  Jason took the pencil back and slid the eraser end under the upper end of the plaster cast, gently rubbing it against the boy’s leg.  Damian quickly got the idea, took the pencil back from Jason, and vigorously began rubbing another part of his leg, a slow smile spreading across his face as the itch was relieved.

“Thank you, Todd.  How did you come up with that?”

Jason smirked at the boy, “You’re not the only one who has had more broken bones than they can remember.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Damian asked, “Why do you keep coming every night?”

Jason thought for a while, not too sure exactly why he did keep coming.  “I guess…It’s the way we found you.  You were trying to protect Big Bird.  I guess someone should be around to protect you.”

“I am in no need of protection, Hood.”

Jason nodded, then stood up and headed for the door, saying, “Well, if that’s the way you feel, I can always sleep in my own bed.”

His hand was on the doorknob when Damian blurted out, “ _Wait!_ ”  Jason smiled with his back to the young Robin.  Damian continued, sounding hopeful, but trying to hide it.  “You…you could stay…just for a bit…you know, if you want to.  I don’t think I can get back to sleep any time soon, and this place is pretty boring.”

Jason turned around and leaned against the door.  “Damian Wayne, are you saying you’re lonely?  Are you saying you actually want me, Jason Todd, near you?  Are you saying that you prefer my company to that of, say…”

“Stop,” Damian interrupted, “I’m just saying…please don’t make me say it.”  Damian winced as he looked at Jason.

Jason smiled ear to ear as he leaned forward, “Say it.”

“You’re the only one who visits with any regularity, and…”

“Saaaaaay iiiiiit.” Jason extended the words out with a knowing grin on his face.

“OKAY!  I’m lonely, and I would appreciate your company, for a while.”

Jason strode forward, placing his hands on Damian’s shoulders.  “That’s my boy.  Was that so hard?”

Damian looked away, “I’m not going to live this down, am I?”

Jason took his seat again, this time moving it next to the bed.  “Nope, not anytime soon, at least.”

“I should have just let you leave.”

“Damian.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up, and get some rest.”

“Who do you think you are, my brother?” Damian asked with a sly grin.

“Yes, I do.  Say, when are they going to spring you from this joint?”

Damian sighed, then yawned again, the late hour starting to catch up with him.  “Maybe Monday, if therapy goes well.”

“Well, in celebration of your release, I’m going to modify your Robin costume a bit.  I’m going to add two holes in the cape, to fit around the handles of your wheelchair.  Then it can flutter in the breeze as Batman pushes you from crime scene to crime scene.  Hey, you think we can use this to get a handicapped placard for the Batmobile?”

“Todd.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.  I think I’ll try to go back to sleep after all.”

Jason turned off the light by the bed, and in just a few minutes, Damian was snoring softly, peacefully back to sleep.  He smiled at the boy and reclined the bed about halfway before patting his youngest brother’s shoulder gently.  _Sleep well, Little D, you deserve it._

_Sunday afternoon, the Batcave…_

After taking the morning off, Tim and Barbara were back at the computer, inputting data and checking leads.  Analyzing the bullets and tracing their origin had turned out to be the Rosetta stone for tracking the whereabouts and activities of Oshimaida Industries.  They had led to a stolen arms shipment a year ago.  The Metropolis police had intercepted the illegal ammunition and contracted with Oshimaida’s overland transportation service to move the shipment to the military stockpile, fifty miles to the north.  The convoy never made it to its destination.  The official report claimed three men in armored SUV’s had hijacked the load and disappeared.  None of the drivers were injured and the trucks were in perfect condition after the hijacking.  The rumor was inside job, but there was no evidence of any Oshimaida link to the hijackers.  Oshimaida executives, testifying before a military panel to explain the lost shipment, stuck to reciting company policy.  They claimed it was their policy for drivers to sacrifice a shipment in order to save lives and equipment if hijacked.  The military bought it, and did not bring any charges against Oshimaida Industries.  The panel felt that losing any further business contracts with the military was punishment enough.

Tim had a source, a friend in the Army, who was working on getting the files of the three men who were discharged over the stolen explosives.  He already had an official company employee roster for Oshimaida Industries American operations.  The Bats hoped to match the names of the soldiers to Oshimaida employment records.  Then they would finally have their link between the warehouse, the explosives, and the company.

Barbara was still working on getting the rental agreement for the warehouse.  She had sent an anonymous tip to her father that the bombing was more than a gangland feud gone worse.  Secretly, she had sent Batgirl to inform Commissioner Gordon in person of the Bat’s involvement in the case, and that Batman and Robin had been injured in the blast.  She made it clear that he was not to reveal that information to the investigative committee.  The Commissioner had been startled, mostly because Batgirl showed up in his bedroom just after he got out of the shower, but also because it explained the disappearance of Batman and Robin.  Of course, he vowed to keep the information to himself, so long as Batgirl knocked next time, and let him put on more than his bathrobe.  Barbara hated that she couldn’t be the one to tell her father, but he had come too close to identifying her as Oracle several times in the past.

Dick was ready to get back to being Batman, but he had reservations about patrolling without Robin.  Sure, he had gone out on patrol many times alone, but this time felt different.  Gotham City needed Batman.  Even if he didn’t stop one crime, just seeing his figure standing atop a building or his silhouette sailing through the Gotham night would inspire the citizens, possibly prevent a crime due to intimidation, and show that the Batman hadn’t forsaken Gotham in its hour of need.

However, Dick was finding reasons to postpone his return to the streets.  He was still sore, and occasionally felt weak.  Damian may need him.  He was still in the hospital and, while he was recovering quicker than he had any right to, there was always the possibility that he could take a turn for the worse.  Tim and Barbara could make the key discovery at any moment, and he felt he should be around when it happened to start planning their next steps at a moment’s notice. 

His biggest reason was one he wouldn’t share with anyone; he was scared.  Being that close to death had shaken the man.  Knowing that he put his youngest brother in the same situation had destroyed his confidence.  He didn’t want to be the one responsible for getting someone he loved killed.  He didn’t want to be the one who had to tell Alfred to set one less place at the table for dinner.  He was tempted to hand this one over to the police and take a long vacation.  Lord knows he earned it.

As much as he wanted to walk away, Dick knew he couldn’t.  These people hurt his family.  These people hurt _him_.  These people didn’t deserve to run around Gotham like they owned the place; that was his job.

“Master Dick, is anything the matter?”

Dick was startled out of his thoughts.  He hadn’t heard the old man approach as he stared into the cowl in his hands.  _If anyone here will understand…_ “I didn’t hear you come in, Alfred.  Yeah, something’s the matter.  Little D is still in the hospital, and I can’t find the people who put him there.  Everywhere I look, I only see one responsible party; Batman.”  Dick threw the cowl down at his feet.

The butler laid a comforting hand on the man’s cheek, making him feel eight years old again.  “Come now, Master Dick.  You can’t blame yourself for the actions of others.  You could no more stop what happened from taking place than you could have stopped Master Damian from accompanying you that night.  Things happen for a reason.  Perhaps your injuries occurred to inform you of a greater threat.”

Dick huffed, “A greater threat, all right.  A threat that has been growing under our nose for years without us being any wiser to it.  How could we not see this coming?”

Alfred smiled sadly, “Tell me, young Master: What is the Joker up to right now?  What is the Penguin planning for his next caper?  Is Two-Face preparing to strike?  How many other crimes were being committed in the city while you and Master Damian were in the warehouse?  You can’t answer these questions, Master Dick.  So, tell me, why do you believe you should have been able to predict this?”

“Because I’m Batman.  Because this is my city, and I should know what the criminal element is planning next.  Because I need to be there when people are planning on blowing up my family.”

Alfred pulled the seated superhero into a hug.  “You were there, you did all you could, and it still happened.  I seem to recall having this conversation once before.”

Dick pulled back, looking confused.  “I don’t remember having this conversation before.”

The older man smiled.  “No, my boy.  I was speaking of Master Bruce.  We had this conversation twice, actually.  Once just after you left, and once just after poor Master Jason, well...  Master Bruce was convinced he was not able to continue as the Batman.  I had hoped he was right, but Gotham called to him, as it is calling to you now.  You are scared, as he was then, but you will get over it.  That fear will help you, because, as you said, this is your city, and you want what’s best for it.”

Dick looked up at the man, a smile on his face.  “Thanks, Alfie.  You didn’t happen to know Knute Rockne, did you?  One of you obviously taught the other how to make the inspirational speech.”

Alfred smiled as he walked towards the door.  “Sometimes, the old ways are the best, Master Dick.”

Dick sat there long after Alfred left, thinking about what he said.  Then, it hit him.  “The old ways…I wonder.”

Dick ran back to the computer, where Tim and Barbara were anxiously waiting for their latest search results.  “Tim, have you looked into the old patent filing from Hao Oshimaida at all?”

Tim looked confused, “No.  Why?”

Dick shook his head.  “I don’t know.  Something Alfred said got me thinking.  I think there may be something there.  Can you pull up the record of the patent filing, please?”

Tim turned to the computer and opened a new search window.  “That is an old record from a third-world, South East Asian country.  It may take a while to come up.  That’s even assuming it has been digitized at all.  The patent was rejected, there is really no reason for them to keep a record of it.”

Dick stared at the screen.  “I know it’s a long shot, but I have a feeling there is something there.  Please pull it up.  Barbara, can you think of anywhere we could find it if he can’t get it from Malaysia?”

Barbara thought for a minute, while Tim looked back at Dick, mumbling sarcastically ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’  Then the lightbulb went on over her head.  “I got it.  Tim, cancel your search in Malaysia.  Start over, this time in the Netherlands.”

Dick looked confused, but Tim got it right away.  “Holy International Manhunt, Barbara.  The Hague, of course.”  Dick still looked like he didn’t get it.  Tim explained, “The patent filing was used as evidence in Oshimaida’s trial for war crimes.  It was the evidence leading to his capture, therefore it had to be presented in court.  That means it has to be in the official record of the trial.  Dick, I’ll have that patent for you in just a few minutes.”

Dick stared at Tim and laughed.  “ _Holy International Manhunt?_   Who talks like that?  I swear, you say the weirdest things sometimes, Timmy.”

As he typed his search request into the computer, Tim commented, “I just explained how to get the exact information you requested, and all you can notice is how I turn a phrase?  Where is your head lately, Dick?”  Tim hoped Dick didn’t answer, because as soon as he said it, he knew where Dick’s head was.  It was the same place all their minds had gone recently, to the hospital room with their injured brother.

“I don’t know,” Barbara chimed in, “He seems like his usual self to me, more or less.”

“Thanks,” Dick deadpanned, “It’s comforting to know I haven’t changed.”  _If only they knew how much change I have seen in myself over the past couple weeks._

Tim’s few minutes quickly turned into ten, then twenty, then thirty.  Dick was pacing behind the teen, preparing to ask for the fifth time how much longer it would take to access the record, when the computer beeped.  All eyes turned to the screen as Tim opened a file containing search results.  It wasn’t the patent filing, but the service records of the three soldiers that Tim’s contact had found and sent.  Tim printed out summary files and handed one to each of his companions in the cave. 

Tim read first.  “Okay, I have Lance Corporal James Kirkland, age 27.  Joined the Army at age 20, basic at Fort Dix, assigned to a supply company.  One tour overseas.  Two non-punitive letters of reprimand in his file, one disorderly conduct charge while on leave resulted in a demotion from sergeant three years ago.  Served a couple short jail stints while in the Army, overnighters.  One for drunk and disorderly and one for fighting with an officer outside of a bar.  Received an Other than Honorable discharge for the incident with the missing explosives two years ago.  Army stopped tracking him after discharge.  Who’s next?”

Barbara spoke up next.  “I have Sergeant William Dearfield, age 28.  Joined the Army at age 19, basic at Fort Dix, assigned to a supply company.  Two tours overseas.  Requested a hazardous duty assignment on his second tour.  Was injured when his convoy was assaulted, resulting in a Purple Heart and a commendation for valor when he saved his driver during a firefight.  Fairly spotless record until his Other than Honorable discharge for the explosives incident two years ago.”

Dick read his record.  “Here is Sergeant Takato Morita, age 27.  Born in Japan, moved to the United States at age two.  Naturalized at age 7, became a sworn citizen at age 10.  Has never been back to Japan and has no known family there.  Joined the Army at age 19, basic at Fort Dix.  Assigned to a supply company, big surprise.  One tour overseas.  Was investigated, but never charged, for participating in an illegal gambling ring on base.  Two letters of reprimand in his file, one for errors in paperwork that sent a weapons shipment to the wrong base.  He was accused of giving aid and comfort to the enemy when he was caught giving supplies to a local medical clinic.  Clinic turned out to be a front for terrorist activities.  Awarded a Purple Heart for shrapnel injuries received while resupplying a forward post that came under fire.  Other than Honorable discharge two years ago.”

All three thought about the records.  Tim began talking, thinking out loud.  “All are about the same age.  All were trained at the same post at about the same time.  It’s not in this record, but they could have met at basic training.  All on the same progression schedule, except for Kirkland, with the demotion.  Morita is the only one with any past marks on file that may suggest he could pull off making one hundred pounds of high explosive just disappear.  However, Kirkland is the more likely, antisocial type, at least with his service record.”

The computer beeped again.  The patent filing came through.  Tim printed out a copy and handed it to Dick, who began reading it.  It was longer than Dick thought it would be, and as he was reading it over, he could feel Tim and Barb’s eyes boring into his head, waiting for his hunch to pay off.  He looked up at the two, “This may take me a while; I don’t even know what I’m looking for yet.  Barb, why don’t you compare the service records to the Oshimaida Industries employee roster.  Tim, now that we have names, see if you can track recent whereabouts of the three men; anything you can find after they left the Army.  Let’s see if we can start putting the pieces together a bit faster.  I still have to get to the hospital to check on Damian before visiting hours are over.”  Dick knew Damian had his guardian angel after visiting hours, but wasn’t sure Little D would like knowing about his nightly visitor.  It would just encourage the child to get less rest in order to tell Jason off for wasting his time visiting, when he could be out hunting this gang.

Dick got five pages into the forty page document and could feel his eyes crossing.  He understood less than half of the material in the patent request.  The research and processes presented were truly ahead of their time when Oshimaida wrote them.  Heck, they were impressive now.  _This would have made him a very rich man, if he hadn’t been a wanted fugitive_.  He pushed himself away from the table and stood up with a sigh, “You know what?  I’m just going to go to the hospital now.  I didn’t see him yesterday, I want to spend some extra time there.  Maybe they will be ready to release him?”

Tim chuckled as Dick trotted off to the Batmobile, putting on his cowl and leaving as quickly as possible.  “He never was one for the heavy research.  I wonder what Alfred said that made him want to see the patent?”

Barbara shook her head, “No idea, but maybe he’s right.  I think a break is in order.  I’m sure Alfred could be persuaded into making some cookies, and I am craving some hot chocolate right now.”

Tim smiled at her, thinking that would be the perfect diversion.  “Okay, you talked me into it, let’s go.”  The two made their way up to the manor, allowing their brains to recharge before returning to their research.

They sat around the kitchen table talking, while Alfred put a batch of Snickerdoodles in the oven.  Alfred sat down at the table with the two while waiting for the cookies to bake.  There was a gnawing question on his mind, and now was the time to ask it.

“Master Timothy, I must ask you something.  Out of the three people at this table, you are the only one who is allowed to visit Master Damian in the hospital, yet you haven’t been there since Master Dick was released.  Master Dick said you talked to Master Damian alone that day.  Did something happen between the two of you?  Why have you not wanted to see your brother?”

Tim had hoped his absence from the hospital hadn’t been noticed.  He couldn’t face it.  Tim hated hospitals, ever since he had watched his mother die in one.  To see his brothers in one had been almost too much for him.  Besides, Damian and Tim had had a moment, and Tim didn’t want to wreck that.  Damian had always been volatile, and Tim was not looking forward to the inevitable, when Damian would return to hating him.

Tim stared at the table while having these thoughts, while two pairs of eyes bored into the top of his head.  He was silent so long, thinking, that Barbara and Alfred began to think he wasn’t going to answer.  Alfred was secretly disappointed in Tim.  This could have been a great bonding experience for the boys, and Tim was letting it slip by.

Barbara was a little less secretive in her disappointment.  After a couple more minutes, as Alfred was taking the cookies out of the oven, she said, “Well?  Alfred asked you a question.”

Startled, Tim looked up guiltily.  _How do I explain this to them, while still keeping my unspoken promise to Damian?_   He began slowly, “I don’t like hospitals; I never have.  I watched my mom die in a hospital, because the doctor said there was nothing more he could do.  I sat there and watched for twenty four hours while a doctor sliced open…my brother, taking him apart before putting him back together again.  I sat there, hoping the doctor could make everything work again, only to find out that they were holding almost no hope of him actually surviving the surgery.  Yes, we talked, but out of respect for Damian, I am keeping what was said between us.  I would ask that you not ask him about it as well, since it was his wish for the conversation to stay between us.  Despite what you may be thinking, I do care for him.  We didn’t get off to the best start, but there is always hope.  Besides, what am I supposed to say to him?  ‘Hey, glad you’re not a vegetable?  Want to guess what color your lung is?  Do you know how many stitches you had, because I watched them put in each and every one?’  I’ll talk to him, I’ll keep trying, but not there.  I can’t go there.  You should know, the only reason I went back at all before is because Jason dragged me there.  I didn’t go willingly, I won’t go willingly.  I will be the first to volunteer to pick him up when he is released, because that means he won, he beat the hospital, and that is something I can support.  I can support him, but I can’t get behind going to see him, only to leave him there, in the hands of those who have limits to their abilities and responsibilities, that get people killed.”

Tim hadn’t meant to pour out his soul like that, but they had a right to know.  Secretly, Tim was upset with himself for not getting over his phobia for the sake of his brother.  Alfred and Barbara sat at the table, watching the teen, waiting to see if he was done.  Alfred slid the plate of cookies across the table, getting a nervous chuckle from the teen as he bit into a still warm cookie.

Barbara wished she hadn’t been so pushy.  “Tim, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know.  I shouldn’t have pushed, you deserve to have been allowed to keep that to yourself.”

Tim wiped at a moist eye, “Yeah, well, if I didn’t tell you, you both would have just kept asking.  Then you would have asked Damian when he gets home, and he would have assumed I said something when he asked me not to.  We have a hard enough time getting along, that would make it worse.”

Trying to cheer him up now, Barbara remarked, “You know, I think Damian actually _would_ like to know what color his lung is.”  Tim chuckled while Alfred looked aghast.  As a former Royal Army medic, Alfred was well aware of the sights Tim had described, and the horror one felt at seeing them.

“I don’t blame you, Master Timothy, hospitals are dreadful places.  We should all be so lucky as to never have to set foot in one.”

Tim didn’t reply, and the three sat in an uncomfortable silence until Tim excused himself, stating he had to use the restroom, but really just wanting to get out of the room.  Figuring one of them would check on him, he actually went to the bathroom, instead of up to his bedroom, where he wanted to go in the first place.  Just before he closed the door, Tim could hear Barbara and Alfred talking in hushed tones, but loud enough to catch Barbara saying, “ _Out of respect for Damian?_   I didn’t know Tim _had_ any respect for Damian.”

Instead of returning to the group, still not feeling comfortable, Tim wandered around upstairs.  He eventually found himself outside of Damian’s room.  Even knowing it was empty didn’t quell his feeling of foreboding as he entered the bedroom.  In true Damian fashion, the room was very minimally decorated.  The large picture on the wall of a generic coastline obviously predated Damian’s time living in the room, and he hadn’t bothered to have it removed.  A sword hung from a hook by the door, looking far more practical than decorative.  Drawings were scattered around the small desk, mostly designs for improvements he wanted to make to his gear.  However, at the bottom of the stack, was an intricately detailed picture of Bruce’s grave marker.  The name had been removed, simply reading ’Father’.  The dates had also been changed to a much shorter time period.  Tim had to think about the dates.  The death date was correct, but the born date was very recent.  It was, in fact, the date Damian had first met Bruce.  _He does feel, like he said._

Exiting the room, after making sure everything was exactly where he had found it, Tim suddenly felt inspired to increase his efforts in researching this gang.  He headed back to the cave, but hesitated at the bottom step of the stairs as he saw Barbara and Alfred reading their latest search results.

Not wanting to make matters worse, neither Barbara nor Alfred said anything.  They only acknowledged Tim’s presence with a nod before passing him a stack of research.

After ten more minutes, Barbara sat back and asked, to no one in general, “I wonder what’s keeping Dick?”

Dick, as he had promised, had spent extra time with Damian at the hospital.  He was very excited that he could take his little brother home tomorrow afternoon.  Dick detailed all of the plans he wanted to make with Damian once he was home, while Damian just nodded and tried to keep the annoyed look off of his face.  Dick succeeded in his hidden plan, and bored Damian to sleep.  After watching him for a bit, Dick was convinced that Damian was not going to wake up soon.  He exited the room quietly, wondering at the reaction Tim and Barbara would have at his extended absence.

As he quietly closed the door, Dick turned around and came face to face with Red Hood.  “Jay, you’re a bit early, he just fell asleep.  If you go in now, you will wake him and ruin your chance at hiding your halo.”

Jason went to walk past Dick, who was standing in front of the door and still holding the handle.  “He already knows, Big Bird.  A nurse told him the other day, and he woke up while I was here last night.  We talked for a while.  Are you happy now?  I saw him while he was awake, as you requested.”

Dick was shocked, _Damian didn’t mention it_.  “Ye…Yeah, I guess I am happy.  Stunned, but happy.  Let him sleep tonight, please.  He is going to have a busy day tomorrow.  He has x-rays, two rounds of physical therapy, and, in the afternoon, I get to take him home.”  The smile the man showed was incongruous with the cowl covering most of his face, but Dick somehow made it work.

“That’s great news, Batsy.  I will make sure he gets his rest, even if I have to knock him out myself.”  Jason walked past the stunned Batman, and closed the door behind him, the click echoing with a sense of finality.

Dick left the hospital and returned to the cave, where, after changing and complaining that the remaining cookies were cold, he returned to reading the patent filing.

Close to midnight, as Barbara looked ready to fall asleep at any moment, and Tim was finishing his third energy drink of the day, Dick finished the report.  He stood up and stretched, accepting a cup of coffee from a weary-looking Alfred.  He walked around the table a couple times to get his blood flowing before returning to the last page of the report.  “Hey, I think I found something here.  This patent filing is signed by more people than just Hao Oshimaida.  He had helpers, assistants, coworkers.  Whatever they were to him, they obviously ranked high enough to get billing on a patent filing.”

Barbara perked up at the thought that a missing piece was about to fall into place.  “Anyone we know?”

Dick read the names for the fifth time, but nothing came to mind.  “No, I don’t think so.  It’s hard to tell; the names are just listed as first initial, last name.  Even Oshimaida is just listed as ‘H. Oshimaida’.”

Tim was intrigued.  “Well, what are the names?”

Dick read from the last page of the report.  “Patent filing for metallurgical process refinements, submitted to Malaysian patent office.  Report prepared by H. Oshimaida, T. Daka, and M. Fuji.”

The three racked their brains, but could not make any connections to the names.  Barbara pulled out the Oshimaida company roster as Tim entered the names into a search engine. 

It was Barbara who made the first connection.  “Guys, I have two names on the list that could be them.  First is a Masahito Fuji.  He is listed as founder, board of directors emeritus.  No age listed, but for an ‘emeritus’ title, usually you have to be older and mostly inactive in the organization.”

Tim shrugged, still staring at the Bat-Computer screen.  “Well, you did say founder, and we know the company was founded in the eighties.  Even if he was fresh out of college then, he could be towards retirement age now.”

Barbara nodded, “You have a point.  Second name is listed as Dr. Tito Daka, founder, board of directors, and lead researcher.”

Dick interrupted, confused.  “Why does a shipping company need a lead researcher?”

Barbara shook her head, “No clue.  Just another question to add to the list.”

Tim made the next connection, “Guys, I have a news report out of Singapore dated almost three years ago.  Masahito Fuji is dead.  He is listed as having a heart attack while driving and launching his car off of a bridge.  Says here a moving eulogy was given at the funeral by the deceased’s best friend and business partner, Tito Daka.”

Dick came to stand behind the teen.  “Does it say what he said that was so moving?”

Tim shook his head, already typing, “Not here, but I want to hear it, too.”

Barbara and Alfred surrounded the teen as he searched.  Barbara spoke, “Now we have names to go off of, but…”

Dick continued, “But, who is Dr. Tito Daka?  What does he want with Gotham City?  And, is he even the mastermind behind all this?”

 

**A/N:  Well, there it is.  I told you you wouldn’t know who it is.  Gather around, kiddies, it’s time for a history lesson.  Imagine, if you will, that it is 1942.  The country is attempting to recover from the Pearl Harbor attack and is gearing up for a total war operation.  Detroit stops making civilian cars and begins turning out tanks and bombers.  Women donate their nylons to make parachutes.  Men line up by the thousands to sign up for the armed forces, not waiting for the draft.  Children scour their neighborhoods for scrap metal to be donated to the construction of war materiel.  Women leave the home to work in the factories while the men are off fighting the Axis.  In the western states, citizens and non-citizens of Japanese descent are rounded up and imprisoned in “relocation” camps, much like the Nazi plans for the Jews in Europe, but with one hundred percent fewer furnaces and gas chambers.  Nationalism, racism, and bigotry were at an all-time high in the United States.  Those who were relocated were not deported because the government feared they would return as the first wave of an invading Japanese army.  Graffiti and propaganda posters, created by the government, advocated for the removal and eradication of the Japanese from American society.  Popular media of the day convinced loyal Americans that the Japanese were untrustworthy.**

**And, Hollywood went to war.  Actors became war heroes.  Performers signed on with the USO to travel to the battlefields to entertain the troops.  Disney signed a contract with the government to make training films and propaganda posters.  (Check out the Donald Duck cartoon ‘Der Fuehrer’s Face’ for a taste of the type of films being produced at the time.  As you watch it, remember that it was made to influence children of the day that America was always right.)  Captain America became the hot property when issue number one showed Cap punching out Hitler on the cover.  (The scene in the first Captain America movie, where he punches out the actor dressed like Hitler on stage while selling war bonds was an homage to that cover.)**

**The American public was fed a constant diet of anti-axis material over the two main forms of public entertainment, radio and movies.  Television did not exist at the time.  At least once a week, families would go to the movies to get their news and entertainment.  It wasn’t like going to the movies today.  Then, you paid your dime or quarter, and could stay all day.  You got a newsreel, a cartoon, a short, and a feature for the price of your admission.  Today, what we would call episodes, were at the time called serials, or shorts.  Patrons came to the theater for a new installment every week, so they could keep up with the latest adventures of whichever character was currently playing.  (Sorry for the long-winded explanation, but here comes the payoff.)  As it would turn out, Batman was the first comic book character to be licensed out for a serial.  Columbia Pictures bought the rights to Batman and Robin and proceeded to create a 15 part weekly series.  However, they forgot to get the rights to any of the Batman villains in the deal, and when they went back to negotiate for the rights to use any of the Rogue’s Gallery Villains, they were refused.  The comic book writers didn’t want to confuse the public by having two differing story lines happening at the same time, so they told Columbia they had to come up with their own bad guy.  Their final creation was Dr. Tito Daka, a Japanese researcher and distant relative of Emperor Hirohito.  He infiltrated Gotham City to impede American war efforts and prepare the way for an invasion of the American Mainland.  Of course, he was thwarted by Batman and Robin, who were portrayed as Government Agents, because the comic code and Hollywood conventions of the time did not allow for vigilantism.  Gangsters were never allowed to win, and crime fighting was only to be done by duly appointed enforcers of the law.  Batman had to have a badge in order to fight crime on screen at the time.**

**Dr. Daka was a racial stereotype from his first appearance on screen, even though he was played by a white man in make-up.  He was made to embody the fears of the American Public.  His plan included brainwashing normal, everyday Americans to carry out his nefarious plans, because what could possibly be more frightening to Joe and Jane Whitebread than not knowing if their neighbor was a collaborator, working for the enemy.**

**You can see the original serial on DVD today.  It is quite interesting, if for no other reason than to see how racist and sexist the 1940’s were.  This serial was also very influential on the Batman comics of the day, resonating through to today with one major change to the series.  This was the first appearance of the tall, skinny, older Alfred as he has been seen in every comic book and movie since, well, 1943.  Up until this time, Alfred was drawn as a short, fat, middle aged man.  After the serial finished, the comic book writers wrote into the series a B story where Alfred starts going to the gym to work out and lose weight.  (He actually, inadvertently, finds the gym in the Bat Cave and starts using that.  Batman kept his secret identity a secret from _everybody_ back then.)  After that, Alfred became skinny, taller, and older.  So, everyone can thank the Gotham City serials for the current incarnation of Alfred.**

**Of course, I can’t portray Dr. Daka as he was originally in 1943.  Like I said in previous notes, I am only using the character name and ethnicity.  If you want to find out what his plan for Gotham is, and how (or if) Batman stops him, you will just have to keep reading.**


	7. 7

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 7

 

“Boss.  I think we might have a problem.”  The man ran into the Boss’ quarters without knocking.  Even though the door had been open, the man had broken protocol and interrupted his master. 

The Boss was not pleased.  “This had better be important, for such a breach of my trust.  This had better be the biggest problem you have ever had to report, Agent 4.”

Agent 4, still out of breath after running in from the Communications Room, was now scared for his life.  “Sir, we may have been compromised.”

The Boss considered this turn of events, and decided to allow his subordinate to live, at least until he finished his explanation.  “Explain, Agent 4.  I don’t want to hear ‘may’.  Have we, or have we not been compromised?”

Agent 4 took a breath before continuing, knowing full well that his next few sentences would decide whether he lived or died.  “I was performing a standard security check, as is my duty, when I found evidence of a serious, concerted effort to breach the files concerning Oshimaida Industries.  I have never seen decryption software like this.  Very high end stuff; our firewall was like Swiss cheese when it came to blocking this attack.  Whoever they were, they got what they came for and stopped.”

The Boss was annoyed, “What did they get?”

“Company employee roster for Oshimaida’s American operations.”

The Boss shook his head, “Your life expectancy is taking a turn for the worse.”

“Please, sir.  I beg you hear me out.  This attack could have copied our entire network if they wanted, why just stop at something that is mostly public record?”  Agent 4 broke out in a cold sweat, not knowing if his explanation would be good enough to spare his life.  “I dug deeper, and found that several select files have been uncovered from other sources, sources that were supposedly buried years ago.  Whoever this was didn’t need to comb through our files, because they already had the ones they were looking for.”

“And, what, pray tell, was that?”

Agent 4 closed his eyes, expecting to be struck down after finishing his next sentence.  “Three sets of files, sir.  One: the official government military records of Agent’s 11, 12, and 13.  Two: the death notification of Masahito Fuji.  Three: a copy of Hao Oshimaida’s 1978 patent request.”

The Boss was silent for a full five minutes, staring at the man.  To his credit, Agent 4 never flinched away from the penetrating gaze cast in his direction.

The Boss turned around to stare at the wall.  On the wall were two pieces that appeared to be modern art; line drawings, one depicting circles joining hexagons, while the other was all jagged triangles and vertical lines.  He had painstakingly protected these two pieces of art, making sure they were displayed in his quarters just so, no matter how many times they had to be packed up during transitions from one base of operations to another.

“Tell me, Agent 4.  You have been with me almost from the beginning, right?”

The man relaxed fractionally behind his boss’ back.  “If you say so, sir.  Only you know where and when this began.”

The Boss nodded, “That’s right, Agent 4.  I assume you can deduce by your number that you are close to the top of the pecking order, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you must assume that there is a reason, other than time served, that keeps you near the top?”

The man became suspicious as to where this was going.  “I am here to serve, Boss.”

The Boss waved his hand, dismissing the comment.  “You are going to prove your worth to me, right now.  Answer me this question: What do those records have in common?  Why did you believe that whoever has those particular records is dangerous enough to our operation to disturb me the way you did?”

Agent 4 thought for a few minutes.  He was given the extra few minutes of life because the Boss wanted to test a theory.  If his own Agent could come up with a believable answer, then whoever had the records might come to the same conclusion.  He began slowly, hoping these wouldn’t be his last words, “Okay, the service records contain the men’s real names.  Those names are also on the employee roster for Oshimaida Industries.  Service records also show the men’s specialties and reason for discharge.  They were all in supply, therefore they would be perfect candidates to work for a shipping company.  I don’t see a connection to the patent request, sir.  Or the Singapore news story, for that matter.”

The Boss looked thoughtful, he was coming up with the same conclusions, all adding up to nothing.  “We are missing something; something that whoever is investigating us obviously isn’t.  More must have been left behind at the storehouse than we originally thought.  Get me a copy of Agent 17’s final report on the warehouse incident.”

Agent 4 bowed himself out of the room, thankful to be leaving with his hide intact.  He returned two minutes later, out of breath from running back and forth.  He handed over the file and waited while his Boss read it twice.  He didn’t dare leave at this point, he hadn’t been dismissed.

“Perhaps this is something.  Agent 17 reported hearing three gunshots before the explosion.  That must be it.  All our armed subcontractors were issued AP rounds to deal with law enforcement.  The idea is to collect the rounds after the situation is handled, but it appears that no one in the warehouse survived to carry out protocol.  They must have been examined by the Batman.”

Agent 4 gasped as realization began to dawn.  “The Batman survived?”

“It would appear so.  He must be the detective everyone claims he is to have come so far so fast.  I admit, I didn’t count him as this big a threat when I first considered this plan.  We will have to reorganize our schedule, and increase operational security.”

Agent 4 shook his head.  “I still don’t get the connection, Boss.”

“The Batman must have analyzed the rounds and followed the signature back to Oshimaida and his research.  That led to the patent request and the Singapore article.  As one of the few people in this organization who knows, tell me, Agent 4, what is my name?”

“Um…Dr. Tito Daka, sir.”

Dr. Daka turned around, staring at the man.  “Can you tell me where that name can be found?”

“Nowhere, sir.  You have worked for years to make sure of that, to make sure that nothing can be traced back to you.”

“Obviously, I was not as thorough as I thought.  Just as obviously, you did not read the files before bringing them to my attention.”

Agent 4’s throat began to dry out again, “No, sir.  I thought it best to notify you as soon as possible.”

“You were right to do so, Agent 4.  However, you have shown me three records today that all bear my name.  I want Agents 5 and 6 scouring records to find other instances of my identity before our plans move forward.  I need to know how many more records out there can be traced to me, and how many of them may be able to compromise our plans.”

“It will be done, sir.  May I ask a question, sir?”

“If it is the right one, yes.”

Agent 4 swallowed before continuing, “How do the buried military records fit in to the records from the company, other than who they belong to?”

“That, Agent 4, is what you will tell me.”

Agent 4 was sweating at the prospect of his almost impossible task.  “Yes sir.”

“And, Agent 4?”

“Yes, sir?”

“By tomorrow afternoon, you had better have an answer.  Especially if you want to see tomorrow night.”

Agent 4 bowed himself out of the room again and ran for the Communications Room as Dr. Daka turned back to the art on his wall.  He traced his index finger over the circles and hexagons, lost in thought at the meaning of the piece.  It was actually a hand drawing of Hao Oshimaida’s chemical formula, the metallurgical mix that would have made him a very rich man.  Dr. Daka and Mr. Fuji had been research assistants, mere students, when they sat and watched Oshimaida draw this out by hand, from memory.

His ask of his students had been initially simple.  _I have designed it, it is up to you to make it work._   The trio worked for six long years before perfecting the formula, sacrificing everything in pursuit of science. 

Their goal was simple: change the world.  Imagine a material that could stand up to the pressures of the bottom of the oceans and the vacuum of deep space while weighing half the weight of the steel required to do the same task.  Imagine building a car that could be crash-tested at twice the normal speed, yet take a quarter of the normal damage.  Imagine framing a house with this material, a house that could withstand earthquakes, tornadoes, and hurricanes, and all at the same time.  Their vision had been infinite.

Now, all that was left was a drawing, and a co-opted future.  When the government had raided their laboratory, everything became evidence, and therefore, government property.  And, in that moment, Daka and Fuji had sworn to recover their future.  They planned to fight back against government corruption, and uncaring regimes.  They planned to reshape the world in their own image, into a place where one’s past would not stand in the way of the future good they could accomplish.

Then, Hao Oshimaida had died.

Oshimaida was given life in prison after the war crimes trial.  The only dissenting vote for the life sentence had come from the American representative to The Hague.  He had boisterously and vociferously advocated for the death penalty to be carried out immediately for Oshimaida’s role in the torture and death of countless American GI’s in Japanese prison camps during World War II.  He lodged formal protests with every government that voted against the death penalty.  He published a paper demanding economic sanctions against Japan, demanding equal reparations as those being considered at the time to be paid to the Japanese in the American internment camps. 

The representative never got his demand, but there was enough of a ground swell movement for the American government to take action.  Officially, a statement was released to the public stating that justice had been done in the court of law, and that America would abide by the decision.  Privately, as soon as the story was out of the national news media, a black operative force had surreptitiously entered the prison and executed Hao Oshimaida, making it look like a natural death. 

Tito Daka was able to find out about the Black team the same way he found out about everything else, by hard work and research.  From then on, he had a new target, the American Government.  He didn’t want to overthrow the government and supplant it with himself; honestly, who really wants to run the United States?  His goal was to expose the Black programs to the world.  He wanted to wake people up to the wool that had been pulled over their eyes. 

His plan had been simple: develop Oshimaida’s wonder material into the strongest bullets he could make, sell them to the government, then wait for them to fall into the hands of the Black operatives.  After a few covert assassinations, he would reveal the origin of the weaponry used in the assassinations as that used by government-sanctioned death squads, and let the court of public opinion tear apart the government for him.

It had been an ideal plan, except for a few small details.  First, the process of making the material into the armor piercing rounds was prohibitively expensive.  While originally conceived as a cover entity, Oshimaida Industries Shipping took off as the main branch of the program for a while to raise the capital needed.  Second, the Cold War ended, greatly reducing the chances of a high profile assassination.  Daka couldn’t count on the government shooting itself in the foot anymore, so to speak, so the plan had to change again.  He began taking the highly dangerous, off the books shipping requests.  The more criminal, yet under the radar, the better.  Oshimaida Industries would transport anything that had the potential to disrupt normal life and make things difficult for the government.

It seemed that, despite initially starting as a way to disrupt the government, Oshimaida Industries had become a legitimate business concern.  Daka and Fuji became well-respected businessmen, and the dream of anarchy seemed to lose its luster to the once idealistic student researchers.

Then, Masahito Fuji had died.

It actually was just as the news media described it, a medical emergency leading to a tragic accident.  Had he not been driving at the time, Fuji would have survived the heart attack.  The loss of his best friend had strengthened Daka’s resolve regarding their master plan.  Within three months of Fuji’s funeral, Oshimaida Industries was back on the road to becoming an evil empire.

Daka moved to the other picture hanging on his wall.  This one was his timeline.  Again, drawn by hand, this time by Daka himself, on the day he found out that Oshimaida had been assassinated.  There had been many changes over the years, many setbacks.  However, Daka was finally entering his final phase.  He had moved operations onto American soil five years ago to look for a location to stage his final showdown.  After almost a year of searching, he had decided on Gotham City.  It was important enough to the country to make an impact, yet not so vital as to have a great government presence.  Most of the upstanding citizens had moved on years ago.  Crime was a part of everyday life.  It had more access points than he needed.  There was no shortage of wannabe criminals, looking to make a name for themselves in a well-run criminal enterprise. 

There was, however, a large rodent problem.  Flying rodents that patrolled the city by night and inspired the populace.  Do-gooders who insisted on helping rid the city of the type of people he had come to need for his operation.  Vigilantes who weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty to try to get the streets clean.  Up until recently, Daka and Batman had led insular lives.  Neither had a reason to know the other existed.  Daka had, of course, kept tabs on the Batman.  Know one’s enemy, as the maxim goes.

It was inevitable that their paths would cross.  Daka had hoped his plan would be farther along before the meeting.  It was an inconvenience, but he had contingencies for everything.

Daka left his quarters and entered the Communications Room.  He instantly had the attention of everyone in the room, as it should be.  “Listen up, our plans are changing.  We need to institute greater operational security to ensure our future success.  Effective immediately, all current operations are suspended.  Issue the orders for all Agents to stand down and await further orders.  We are changing operational mode from one-3 to one-7.  Access plans for one-7 on the server and distribute new orders 24 hours from this mark.  Be sure to adjust orders for recent losses in personnel.  It’s time to open the next phase of the operation.”

 

**A/N: Honestly, I don’t think this is my best chapter, but I felt like getting some exposition in to move the story along a bit.  Now that the long-winded explanations are out of the way, I can get back to what I like writing.  This will be the last bad-guy-centric chapter.  From now on, light and dark stories with be intermixed in chapters, just to pick up the pacing a bit.**

**Just so everyone is aware, even though it should be obvious, the ‘history’ sections of this chapter are complete fabrications that come from my own mind.  Yes, there was torture of prisoners in Japanese prisoner of war camps, and many were killed (look up the Bataan Death March for a grisly example), but most of the events depicted here did not happen.  That’s why it’s called fiction.  There were also reparations made by the government to survivors of the American Japanese internment camps, but those didn’t come along until the Clinton Administration, and the timeframe depicted in this chapter is more in line with Reagan and Bush (first Bush, not Dubya).**

**Stay tuned for my next chapter, where Damian comes home from the hospital.**

**Standard Disclaimer: The only DC characters I own are the Lil’ Gotham Batman and Robin action figures I bought online.  They look good sitting on the desk in my cubicle at work.  Otherwise, I claim no ownership of anything.**

**Extra Note: If anyone read the original version of this chapter on Fanfiction.net, you will notice many changes in this one.  Don’t bother going there to look for the original.  It, and all of my other works, have been taken away from there.  I like this site better.  I screwed up when writing this originally, and got the dates and timeline points all wrong.  In posting this here, I have gone back and cleaned up my errors.  Hopefully, this part of the story makes a little more sense now.**


	8. 8

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 8

_Monday Afternoon…_

Batman arrived at Gotham Mercy Hospital at a quarter to one, continuing his series of unusual, daytime excursions.  It had become a regular sight for the hospital staff to see the Caped Crusader stalking the halls.  However, what they could not get over was the fact that Batman was friendly.  All the news reports on Batman’s nightly activities showed some nameless hooligan being carted off to jail, yelling to high heaven that the Batman had beaten him within an inch of his life, or had turned his blood to ice with just a glare.  Here, Batman talked in a civil tone.  He had lunch brought in for the hospital staff.  He even, occasionally, smiled.

Robin, on the other hand, could be described as the surly one.  Of course, he was polite and thankful for his care, but many on staff wondered if the Boy Wonder wasn’t only acting that way on orders from Batman.  Most of the time, he demanded to be left alone.  He didn’t seek out conversation with the staff, and he was very particular about who took care of him.  One newer nurse was one of the few who had gained his acceptance.  She was awarded with Employee of the Month, as the hospital management recognized the nurse had done the almost impossible.

Batman was smiling as he approached Robin’s room.  Dr. Thompkins was leaving, looking nervous as she turned around and ran into the cowled man.

“Oh, hi Batman.  I’m glad you’re here.  I need your help with Robin.  There was a problem and we need to keep him for one more night.  It was completely our fault, we will take full responsibility for it, but I want you around when I explain it to him.”

Batman’s smile faltered at the nervous look on the woman’s face.  “What happened?  It can’t have been too serious, or you would have called me.”

As he spoke, Batman walked into the room, Dr. Thompkins following in his wake.  He stopped and looked around the room before asking, “Where is he, Doc?”

She sighed, “In surgery.” 

Batman whipped around, his jaw dropping, “What do you mean, _in surgery?_   What happened?”

Leslie closed the door before continuing.  “Don’t give me the Batman treatment, Dick.  You may be wearing the cowl now, but I remember the real thing.  We were removing the cast from his wrist with the micro-circular saw, as is normally done in any hospital, when…it broke.  I can’t tell you exactly what happened, because I just don’t know, but the saw had a…catastrophic failure.  I don’t know if the saw blew up, or shorted out, or what.  Either way, it electrocuted the Physician’s Assistant who was performing the removal, and cut pretty deeply into Damian’s arm.  The PA is in the burn unit, and Damian is having his arm x-rayed and stitched.  He should be back soon.  You can wait here.”

Batman was astounded.  “Why didn’t you call me?”

Leslie was on the defensive, “This just happened, maybe half an hour ago.  I wanted to make sure he was stable before contacting you.  Please, don’t be mad at the PA.  It was a freak accident that could have happened to anybody.”

Batman turned his back, taking a deep breath to calm himself before speaking again.  “Will the PA be okay?”

Leslie let out the breath she had been holding, “He should be.  He will be out of work for a while, until his hands heal, but he should be able to return to work within a few weeks.”

Batman nodded, “Good, now take me to Damian, please.”

She nodded, leading the taller man down to the surgical suite.  Instead of following Leslie to the observation room, Batman headed straight for the surgery room itself.  He fitted a surgical mask over the exposed bit of his face and large surgical gloves over his gauntlets before entering the room.  Dr. Thompkins didn’t notice that Batman was no longer behind her until she saw him enter the operating theater from the observation suite.

Fortunately, the doctor stitching up Robin’s arm was finished with his work, because the shock of seeing Batman stalking up to the operating table was more than enough to make him drop the scissors he had been using to trim the ends of his last stitch.  He backed away from the table as Batman leaned over Robin.

“I can understand the mask, but the gloves just look ridiculous,” Robin commented from the table.  They had just used a local anesthetic while the medical staff cleaned and stitched the wound.

Robin looked around the room and commented, “They tell me this is the same room where I had my operation when we first got here.  That was almost four weeks ago, now.  Can I go home yet?”

_I never thought I would hear Damian whine, but if he ever had a reason, this is it._   Batman sighed in relief as the nurse continued to bandage the wound.  “Doc says you can go home tomorrow.  I’m sure it will take until then to get all the post-hospital instructions for your care.”

Robin was wheeled back to his room, where the bandage was checked again before the dynamic duo were left alone.  They spoke for a couple hours about nothing in general before Dr. Thompkins and Leroy, Damian’s preferred physical therapist, entered the room.  Damian had gone through several before announcing that he liked Leroy and the way he pushed Damian to recover.

As Batman left with Dr. Thompkins, Leroy tossed a yellow and black ball to Robin.  “Hey, Robin!  Think fast!”  Damian caught the ball with his left hand, his ribs barely giving him a twinge as he quickly shot his arm above his head to catch the projectile.

“What am I supposed to do with a foam ball, Leroy?  The cast just barely came off, I don’t think my grip strength is going to be good enough right now to throw it back.  Besides, I don’t partake in childish games like catch.”

The muscular therapist smiled warmly as he approached the bed.  “You hit the nail on the head, son.  Your grip strength should be terrible right now.  That’s where the ball comes in.  Put it in your right hand, yes just like that,” Damian had done as he was told, “Now, squeeze it.”

Damian tried to follow directions, but found that his fingers barely moved when he commanded them to squeeze.  As a result, the ball rolled out of his hand and onto the floor as he hissed in pain.  He had had limited mobility in his fingers, due to the cast, and now he was hurting as unused muscles tried to become active again.

Damian suddenly remembered an overheard conversation from a couple weeks ago, talking about the possibility of nerve damage in the boy.  _Is this what they were talking about?  Is this muscle atrophy, or permanent nerve damage?_

Leroy noticed the scared look on Robin’s face and felt compassion for the boy.  “I though as much.  Don’t worry about it, in a couple days, your hand will be back to normal; you just haven’t used those muscles in a while.  Here, give me your hand.”

Damian blew out a sigh of relief.  _Oh good, atrophy, not nerve damage._   He held up his hand as the man approached.  Leroy massaged the fingers, then the palm, trying to get the digits pliable again.

After a couple minutes, Leroy placed the ball back in Robin’s hand.  “Okay, let’s try that again.  This time, I’m going to help you, but you have to help me by putting everything you have into squeezing that ball.  Got it?” Damian nodded, unsure what the man had planned.  “Okay.  Just a quick warning, this is really going to hurt, but we will go slow, so we don’t pop any of your new stitches.”

Damian took a deep breath and nodded again.  He tried to grip the ball again, his fingers moving to make a loose cup around the ball, but still not tight enough to keep from dropping the ball again.  Leroy’s large hand surrounded Damian’s small hand, slowly contracting into a loose fist and forcing the fingers to close tighter around the ball. 

Damian gave a guttural moan in pain as tight muscles were forced to stretch farther than they had in weeks.  A burning sensation shot all the way up his arm, and he felt like the man had torn his muscles out through his fingers.  Sweat beaded on his forehead as he bit his lip against the sudden pain.

Leroy slowly loosened his grip and let the fingers return to a relaxed position.  He gently put the boy’s arm down and waited for a couple minutes before asking, “Well, how they feel?”

The boy opened his mouth to give a response that Dick would not be proud of, but then thought better of it and closed his mouth again.  Instead, he growled, “Why did you do that?  That really hurt.  It still hurts.”

“Got the fingers moving again, though.  Come on, I thought you were the Boy Wonder?  I thought you could handle a little pain?  If this was too much for you, what’s going to happen when you come back to get the cast off your foot?”

Damian looked at the man sideways, “I don’t think you will be trying to bend my foot in half then, especially when I can kick you without having to worry about the bones still being broken.  And it wasn’t too much for me, I just wasn’t ready, that’s all.”

Leroy laughed, “Weren’t ready, huh?  Some crime fighter you are.  Aren’t you Bat boys supposed to be on guard at all times?”

Robin gave a half smile, “Being here, and being forced to hang around with you, has dulled my senses.  It’s a good thing I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Leroy nodded to the ball, “Pick it up, try it again.”

Damian reached over and grabbed at the ball, his hand now flexing enough to just barely lift the ball off the bed.  Damian looked up at the man with shock on his face.

Leroy smiled again.  “See, told you.  I want you to squeeze that ball like there’s no tomorrow.  By the time you come back, I want you to be able to throw and catch that thing like it’s the easiest thing in the world.  Take that ball everywhere you go, squeeze it as often as you can, as hard as you can, for as long as you can.  Feel how stiff the foam is?  When you come back, I want it to be as soft as a crushed tomato, got it?”

Damian nodded and started trying to grip the ball as Leroy walked out of the room.  As he passed the partially open door, Leroy heard a soft ‘thank you, Leroy,’ come from the stoic boy he had been getting to know over the last couple weeks.  He knew better than to return to the room to comment on the gratitude, he just accepted it and let Robin think he hadn’t heard it, which is what Damian had been hoping.

Dick returned to the room and informed Damian that everything had been arranged, and Dick could take him home first thing in the morning.  He also informed Damian that he would be staying the night, so the boy didn’t have to stay any longer than necessary in the morning.  Damian huffed at the news, but Dick knew he was hiding his true feelings.

Damian was ecstatic that he would be leaving in the morning, but even happier that Dick was staying with him.  He tried hard to not let on about his feelings, but felt that Dick could see right through him.  They talked for a few more hours, Dick giving a detailed update about the progress of the case, and wishing he had brought some of the research for Damian to read.

They both fell asleep fairly early, but were able to sleep straight through the night.  This was the first night in about a week where the overnight chart notes didn’t include some sort of nightmare or disturbance in Robin’s sleep pattern.

Damian awoke in the morning to a nurse changing the dressing over his latest wound.  Once she left, Dr. Thompkins entered and closed the door to give her final instructions.

“Okay you two, you’re just about done with this place.  Damian, you need to follow the instructions that Leroy gave you if you hope to regain full use of your limbs.  Try to stay off your feet at least until the cast comes off.  I’m giving you a crutch to help in transferring from bed to chair, or chair to toilet, but I don’t want to hear reports that you are walking around yet.  And I will give you the same warning I gave Dick here: no Caped Crusading until you have been fully cleared by myself _and_ Alfred.  It is still my suggestion that you retire as Robin, but you know I can’t stop you.  But beware: returning to crime fighting in your condition could be fatal.  Give yourself time to heal and recover, or Alfred has my permission to burn all your Robin uniforms.  You have a follow up appointment in a few days to check out your arm and, hopefully, take out the last of your stitches.  Take care, boys.  Gotham may need you, but that doesn’t mean that it needs you right now.  Give yourself time to get back into it.”

Batman and Robin thanked the doctor as Batman pushed Robin, now back in full uniform for his release from the hospital, out of the building.  Almost all the staff of the recovery floor turned out to wish the young crime fighter luck in his recovery.  Damian was acutely uncomfortable with all the attention, but to Dick’s astonishment, he was gracious and polite in thanking the staff.  The Dynamic Duo was soon in the Batmobile, heading back to the cave.

They made it a couple blocks before Damian sat bolt upright and asked, “Hey, aren’t we supposed to pay the hospital, or something?  I was there for weeks, that can’t be free.”

Dick laughed, watching the road as he rummaged in the utility belt.  He finally pulled out two small cards and tossed them into Damian’s lap.  Damian picked up the small slips of plastic and read them.  _He’s kidding, right?_

The cards were insurance plan membership cards from Blue Cross Blue Shield of Gotham.  Under the subscriber name on one was printed _Robin,_ the other belonged to _Batman_.  Damian looked up at Dick with an incredulous look on his face.  “You’re kidding, right?”

Dick shook his head, “Bruce thought of everything.  We are officially listed as private security employees of the Wayne Foundation.  It’s never come up before, because I think this may be the first time any of us have ever had to use the policies.  Alfred can handle a lot, but it is nice to have the option of expanded medical care.  It’s like the Bat-MasterCard, I never leave the cave without it.”

Damian shook his head, not too sure if Dick was being totally serious now.  “No, I’m calling BS on that one.  A Bat credit card?  No way.  I can understand the insurance plans in our line of work, but a credit card?”

Dick was laughing again, “I had to try; it was worth a shot.”

They drove on, slowly regaining their old banter on the trip home.  As they entered the cave, Tim, Barbara, and Jason were gathered around the computer, only partially working while waiting for Dick and Damian to return.  They approached the Batmobile as the canopy opened, and were all overjoyed to see the young Robin’s head poking out of the passenger seat.

The trio rushed to the car, but were pushed aside as Alfred came rushing through the middle of the group.  The butler gathered up the boy in his arms, holding him tightly as a few tears of joy leaked from his eyes.

Damian blushed bright red at the show of affection, but secretly didn’t want it to end.  “Pennyworth, it is agreeable to see you doing so well.  Hospital food leaves much to be desired.”

“My boy…Master Damian.  You seem to be recovering well.  I have received good reports from Dr. Thompkins.  Come, let’s get you out of that uniform and into something more appropriate.”  Alfred said this like he was giving Damian a choice, but walked to the locker room still holding his surrogate grandchild.  Dick followed with the wheelchair, giggling at the old butler in a very un-Batman fashion.

The formality of the greetings belied the true feeling behind the sentiment, but each was aware of how the other truly felt.  They both missed each other, though they would never admit it out loud; their respective upbringings would never allow it. 

Dressed in a polo shirt and khakis, Damian was settled in his chair again as Dick, in sweats and a t-shirt, pushed him back into the cave, towards the three other occupants, forgotten in the formal emotionality.  Alfred went upstairs to fix a late breakfast for Damian.

Damian nodded to the cave’s occupants in greeting.  “Gordon…Todd…Drake.”

All three nodded back simultaneously and said in one voice, “Wayne.”

As Damian ‘Tt’-ed and tried to hide a smirk, Jason leaned over to Tim, “Oh, good.  For a moment there, I thought we had disappeared or something.”

Tim answered, “What did you expect?  You saw him almost every night.  Alfred hasn’t seen him in almost a month.  That’s long enough to almost forget how annoying he can be.”

“I’m right here, and I can hear every word you’re saying.  You know that, right?”  Damian asked.

Responding together, Jason and Tim answered, “Yeah.”

Barbara wheeled herself up to Damian.  “Well, I, for one, am glad to see you out of the hospital, and looking almost healthy.  Now, since you can’t run away, and will have a hard time chasing me…”  Barbara leaned over and gave Damian a kiss on the cheek.

Damian blushed redder than when Alfred had picked him up.  Flustered, he blurted out, “GORDON!”

She smiled at the reaction, “Welcome back, Damian.”

_Soon After…_

Feeling he had suffered enough embarrassment at the hands of his family, Damian asked Dick to take him up to the kitchen.  Damian wanted to spend some time with Alfred.  He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that he needed to be alone with the butler for a while.  Dick tried to explain that the kitchen wouldn’t be a good idea, but Damian insisted, right up to the point where they entered the kitchen and approached the tall breakfast counter, which, given Damian’s current seated disposition, was unusable, as the bottom of the table sat just over his head.

Dick, wheeling Damian to the living room on orders from Alfred, said, “I told you, Little D, the kitchen was a bad idea.”

Damian replied dryly, “Well, geez, it’s only been a month since I’ve been here, with several traumatic injuries in between.  Excuse me for assuming I would be able to eat in our normal accommodations.”

Alfred entered the room, carrying two cups of tea.  “Master Dick, you will find a serving table with a plate in the kitchen.  Please bring your brother his breakfast.”  Dick left the room, wondering what the sudden change in Alfred could be about.  Alfred handed one of the cups of tea to Damian and said, “I know you only drink it to humor me, but, if it’s acceptable, would you have a cup with me?”

Damian nodded and accepted the cup, wondering how Alfred always knew what was on his mind.  “I was hoping to…spend some time with you, Pennyworth.  I wanted to talk about…”

Damian stopped as Dick entered the room and set the table and plate in front of Damian.  As much as he wanted to continue, the simple meal looked and smelled incredible.  Since Alfred had already said the food was for him, he felt no qualms about digging in while it was still hot, giving the old servant a warm feeling inside at the enjoyment the meal brought his young charge.

Dick was hovering around Damian, still getting used to having him back home.  Alfred and Damian shared a look, silently wondering how to get rid of the oldest Bird.  Damian tried giving several subtle hints, all of which were either ignored, or sailed over Dick’s head.

Finally, when Damian had finished the meal, Alfred spoke up, “Master Dick, please take the table and plate back to the kitchen, and if you would be so kind, wash up for me in there, and take your time.  When you’re done, please check in on your brothers downstairs and make sure they haven’t made any breaks in the case without you.”

Dick finally got the hint and left the room with the table and plate while Alfred shook his head and Damian chuckled. 

Once he was gone and out of earshot, Damian started again.  “Do you think we should find someplace more private?”

“No, I think he got the message, finally.”  Alfred took a sip of his tea before asking, “Are you okay, Master Damian?”

Damian nodded slowly.  “The doctor’s seem to have done good work on me, and Mother’s altering of my DNA to increase healing helped immensely.”

Alfred nodded with a smile, “I see.  So, child, what is it you wanted to know about your father?”

_How did he…?_   “Is there anything the Wayne’s can hide from you?”

“No, child.  Master Dick could never hide his pain, Master Jason could never hide his angst, or his hope, Master Timothy could never hide his insecurities, you could never hide your intentions.  You father could never hide the pictures he kept of the four of you in his wallet.”

Damian looked away, “So he did care.”

Alfred was shocked, “Of course, child.  What would make you think he didn’t?”

Damian spoke quietly, “He never talked to me.  We spoke, and he would give me orders and recite rules, but we never _talked_.  I felt like…like I wanted a father, and he wanted a soldier.”

Alfred looked critically at the boy, “Was that where the disconnect was?”

“No.  I don’t know.  I tried to be what I thought he wanted, but we kept drifting farther apart.  Then, he was gone.  I don’t feel like I ever really got to know him.  I turned my back on everything I knew, for him.  I always felt like he had expectations of me, but he wouldn’t tell me what they were or help me get there.”

Alfred felt an old wound being ripped open in his heart, “Did you ever take the time to ask for that help?”

Damian mumbled, looking at the bandage on his arm, “No.  We never found the right time.  There was never enough time.  He was always mad at me, or running off to go to work, or to save the world, or…or I was too stubborn to listen when he tried to teach me.  He eventually stopped trying.  Am I really that much of a lost cause?  I’ve changed, haven’t I?”

The boy’s pleading sounded like another Wayne child long ago, trying to rationalize events and actions that were irrational and incomprehensible.  “Master Damian, you are the child you are.  You are the product of your upbringing, and the child of your parents.  You were created to be this extraordinary person, to do great things.  But, if there is one thing that is lacking from all portions of this equation, it’s cohesion.  You were raised in two different worlds, bred for two different purposes.  You were thrown suddenly, and without warning or preparation, from one world to the other, and you have tried everything within your knowledge to reconcile two incompatible situations.  The only common denominator, is you.  You were given a choice, and you made it, and I must say, you made the right one.  But then, you were expected to shift everything instantly, without being allowed an adjustment period.  It wasn’t fair to you.  Are you a lost cause?  Yes, and no.  You are only as lost as you allow yourself to be.  There is help all around you, even though it is not the help you originally wanted.  Have you changed?  Yes.  Is this the answer you were hoping for?  Probably not, but I think it is the right one for now.”

Damian nodded slowly and thought on Alfred’s words.  _I am…me.  What else is there?_

Finally, he looked into the old butler’s eyes, a smile on his face and a tear in his eye, and asked, “Tell me about my father, please?”

_A few days later…_

Life had begun to return to normal around the manor, now that the family was back together.  Damian was still adjusting to being home, and to being limited in his activities.  He was used to having the run of the manor; it was his house, after all.  Now, he was limited to whatever room he could get someone to drag his wheelchair to.  It was frustrating, having to plan every move so far in advance, making sure he could get where he needed to, when he needed to get there.

He had tried navigating the stairs on his own the night he came home from the hospital, to no success whatsoever.  Figuring that down was not going to be a problem, he could either slide down the bannister or take it one step at a time, inching down on his butt, Damian tried instead for up.

Using his crutch under his left arm, and only slight pressure on his right arm on the bannister, made for slow going.  Several things hindered his progress.  He didn’t want to put too much pressure on the right arm and run the risk of popping his stitches.  He still didn’t trust the strength of the replaced knee, even though it was far stronger than his natural knee and he had practiced putting weight on it in physical therapy.  He had never used crutches before, and was not skilled, or even familiar, with the proper way to use them on stairs.  He had spent weeks in bed without exercising, and as a result, he had gained several pounds and lost a good deal of endurance and stamina.  However, his biggest problem at the moment was that his plaster cast kept slipping on the polished wooden steps.  Still, Damian attempted to persevere, even though he was wishing he had a spotter. 

His first sign of trouble came four steps up, when his cast started slipping.  Three more steps brought the beginning of fatigue, accompanied with sweating from exertion.  Two steps later, the sweat caused his arm to slip off the bannister.  He was able to catch himself with the crutch, but his hand was becoming sweaty, and he feared he would lose his grip on the crutch.  Determined not to give up, he made it three more steps towards the top; that was when his mind started to work.  His wheelchair was at the bottom of the steps and his room was forty feet down the hall at the top of the stairs.  He was already shaking from the exertion and effort, he knew he would never make it to his room at this point.

Still, he went on, for one more step.  The combination of his sweaty arm slipping off the bannister and his cast slipping on the polished wood caused Damian to spin ungainly towards his left.  Trying to catch himself with the crutch actually caused him to spin a bit faster, tweaking his new knee and sending an odd type of pain shooting up his leg.

All this happened in a matter of two seconds before Damian collapsed on the staircase.  He had made it almost half way up, something that Dick made him swear not to try until he was a bit stronger.

The crash, and resulting string of profanity, echoed through the manor.  In a matter of seconds, Dick stood at the bottom of the stairs, while Tim stood at the top.  Both rushed to his aid, picking him up and carrying him to his bed.  Alfred came quickly to check for new injuries, and only found a bruise forming on his thigh, where he hit the stairs.

All three men stood surrounding the bed, demanding an explanation.  Damian suddenly felt like the ten year old he was; not something that happened to him often.  He began to sniffle, feeling like the interrogation was unwarranted as he explained how useless he felt having people do everything for him.  He told them that he just wanted to feel like his old self again.  They understood, but all four agreed that he would accept their help until he could help himself, and that it would be safer if he were to stay in the manor, at least until he got his strength back.  Damian threw in one proviso stating that he could at least try to get up the stairs without being carried as long as one of the other men in the house were there to help.

He hated being cooped up inside all day, but it had allowed him time to catch up on a few books that he had been wanting to read.

Damian was sitting in the Living room in his wheelchair, next to the couch, reading a book, when Tim and Stephanie walked into the room, talking, interrupting his peace.

“…I don’t know.  How about that new movie that came out last week?”

Tim looked at her, “Okay, I guess.  I mean, if Dick wants to take the time for all of us to relax together, that one looks just stupid enough for him to love it.”

Stephanie slapped his arm, “Hey!  I actually want to see that one!  It doesn’t look _that_ stupid.”  She stopped with a gasp as she finally noticed Damian sitting in the room, staring at them.  “Geez, say something, why don’t you?  I didn’t see you there.”

Damian rolled his eyes.  “Of course you didn’t, I was trained to be a master of stealth.”

She snorted a laugh and said, “No, you are wearing a brown shirt, sitting in the corner of a room between a brown couch and a brown wall.  I would say you are more chameleon than stealth fighter.”

Damian turned away, smiling.  _The Chameleon, I like that._

Steph and Tim thought she may have hurt his feelings, until Damian turned back to face them, still with an evil grin on his face.

Jason walked into the room, yawning after just waking up from his nap.  “What’s going on here?”

Tim looked back, “Oh, just a possible new nickname for Damian: Chameleon.”

Jason stared.  He could see how they could say that, given the overwhelming sense of brown in the room that had extended to Damian’s choice of clothing for the day.  “Chameleon?  Maybe closer to _Karma_ Chameleon.”

Tim and Steph stopped, unable to believe what Jason had just said.  Tim’s eyes were wide and Steph’s jaw was slack with wonder.  Damian was confused as he rolled himself a bit closer.

Steph said slowly, “Oh…My…God.  I can’t believe you just said that.  That is…Amazing!”

Tim stared at Steph, like he had just been let in on the secret of the universe.  “How could we have never thought of that before?  It’s so obvious!”

Steph nodded enthusiastically, “I know, right?”

Damian didn’t understand what had just gone on, other than a joke had just been made at his expense.  Damian didn’t like when people laughed at him, especially when he didn’t understand the joke.  He rolled to the middle of the room before asking, “What does that mean?”

Tim and Stephanie ignored him, all their attention on Jason.  Stephanie hugged the taller man, while Tim gave him a slow clap.  Damian quickly became annoyed with the three.  He hated being left out of the obvious inside joke.

Fed up with being ignored, Damian yelled, “Hey!”  All three finally remembered that he was in the room and turned in his direction.  “What does that mean, Karma Chameleon?”

All three smirked, finding it unbelievable that Damian was unaware of the reference.  Tim and Steph looked at each other, nodded, then turned back to Damian, both singing in the tune of the 1980’s classic, “Red, Gold, and Green!  Red, Gold, and Green!”

“Huh?  Do you want to try making some sense now?”  Damian was still oblivious to the joke.

They couldn’t contain themselves anymore.  Tim, Steph, and Jason broke down into a fit of laughter, pissing Damian off.  Damian rolled out of the room, running into Tim purposely as he left.  As he rolled down the hall, he heard Stephanie singing, “Karma, karma, karma, karma, Karma Chameleon!”

An hour later, Dick found Damian in the Ballroom, playing Ravel’s Pieces for the Left Hand.  It was one of the few things he could play right now, since his right hand was still weak and still bandaged for another couple days.  Damian appeared upset, and Dick didn’t know why.  He hadn’t seen anyone for a while, and was wondering if everyone was still alive. 

He waited for Damian to finish before asking, “Where’ve you been?  I’ve been looking for you.”

Damian looked up at Dick, but didn’t respond.  He instead dragged himself off the bench and tried to get back in his wheelchair.  The bench began to tip, and Dick rushed over to catch his brother before he landed on the hardwood floor, possibly aggravating his injuries.  He helped his brother back into his chair, knowing how much Damian wanted to be rid of the contraption.

Dick could tell something was bothering Damian.  “Want to talk about it?”

Damian shook his head, not looking at Dick.  He wanted to be alone, and he definitely didn’t want someone feeling sorry for him.

Dick wondered what had happened.  The last time he saw Damian, he had been reading happily in the living room.  He had sent Tim in to see if he wanted to go to a movie tonight.  Something must have happened between D and Timmy.  He would have to ask Tim later.  “Dinner is in a few minutes.  I can take you in there, if you want.”

“Please, I want to go to my room.  Help me up the stairs?”  Damian’s voice sounded strained.  Dick thought that, whatever had happened, it must have been pretty bad, at least in Damian’s mind.

Dick nodded and pushed his brother towards the stairs.  At the base of the stairs, Dick grabbed Damian’s crutch from the bannister and held it out to Damian.  The child made no effort to reach for the crutch, but instead looked away from Dick as he reached for the man instead of the device.  Dick put the crutch back and instead picked up his brother and carried him up the stairs.

He settled the boy on his bed and asked, “What about dinner?”

Damian, still not looking at Dick, replied, “I’m not hungry.  I just want to be left alone, for now.”

Dick wished he could help, “You sure?”  Damian nodded.

Dick picked up Damian’s phone and laptop from the desk and placed them on the bed, next to Damian.  As he pointed to the phone, he said, “You have your phone.  If you need anything, just call me, I’ll get you whatever you want.  Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

Damian nodded again as Dick walked out of the room.  As he closed the door, Dick could have sworn he heard Damian say ‘Thank you.’

Around 11:30 that night, as Damian sat watching a Bruce Lee movie on his laptop, he got a message that said he had a new email.  Opening his email, he saw that it was from Drake.  He was about to delete it unread, but he saw two things that intrigued him enough to open it.  First, was a symbol indicating there were a couple attachments in the email.  Second, the subject line read _I’m Sorry_.

He opened the email and read the text.  _Damian- I’m sorry about this afternoon.  I didn’t think, when we were laughing, that it would hurt you.  It didn’t occur to us that you may not have been familiar with the song in question.  Believe me, we were not laughing at you.  We were laughing at the image of your Robin costume in our minds, fitting into the song.  To illustrate this point, look at the first attachment.  I took this a few months ago.  Then, remember the line Stephanie and I were singing._

Damian opened the first attachment and saw a picture of him, in his Robin uniform.  The picture was taken from below as Damian stood on the edge of a rooftop.  He had his right foot up on the ledge and his hands on his hips, looking for all the world like a young Captain Morgan, his cape blowing in a breeze.  As he remembered the line they had sung, Damian could see where they could think it applied.  The picture showed vibrantly the red, yellow, and green of his costume.  Thinking about it now, it was a little funny, but there was no reason they couldn’t have explained that this afternoon.

Damian continued reading.  _We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.  We just figured that, living with Dick for as long as you have, you have been subjected to his terrible taste in music, just like we all were.  I consider you the lucky one, to so far not have been subjected to his plethora of playlists.  Just so you know, Dick interrogated us over dinner about what happened.  Believe me, we had no idea we were hurting you.  I don’t know if you will believe me, but you can always come to me.  I will help, if I can.  So you know that our laughter was really about the song, and not about you, I have attached the Mp3 of the song in question.  Please listen to it, then we can find a way to make fun of Dick for his taste in music.  Again, I’m sorry._

Damian read the email again, wondering just how sincere Drake was, and if Grayson had forced him to write it.  _Does it really matter?_

Damian downloaded the Mp3 to his computer and pressed play.  Immediately, he understood how Dick could love the song, as the 1980’s synthesizers began their saccharine melody.  The song sounded so happy and energetic, Damian could picture Dick dancing around the room as the song played.  He didn’t understand the lyrics, but heard the line referencing the colors of his uniform several times.  By the end of the song, he decided he could forgive them, but not just yet.  There had to be some payback for the way they made him feel today.

Damian listened to the song again while looking at the picture of himself in uniform.  He then turned off the laptop and tried to get some sleep, wishing he had allowed himself to call downstairs for some food.  He had to get up early in the morning for a doctor’s appointment.  He was getting the bandage off of his arm in the morning.

 

**A/N: Okay, I didn’t think I would get this out so soon, since I am working on another one-shot that I wanted to finish first.  That’s just how it goes, I’m writing that one and getting all kinds of ideas for this one.  Next chapter, and other stories, will be somewhat delayed.  Writing time is very short now that I am working two jobs.  Next chapter should include some actual tracking of the villain.**

**I’ve been feeling fluffy lately, so this is a bit heavy on the fluff.  I tried to incorporate a few things from reviews in this chapter.  A guest reviewer asked how they were going to pay the hospital bill, so there you go.  Another guest was excited to see how Alfred would act when he finally got to see Damian again, hope this lived up to your expectations.  FireandIce128- I’m trying to keep up with the feels.  And to the guest who asked if I was some kind of history genius, the answer is yes.  One of my three degrees is in history, so I feel qualified to be referred to as a history genius.**

**Now, the Culture Club reference.  I was recently re-reading Kimura Hana’s Find Your Way Home (which is an amazing story that I recommend everyone read) and one of the chapters has an interaction between Dick and Damian, where Damian says, “You think I wear yellow and green for fun?” or something like that.  I looked at that line and the song just popped in my head.  I couldn’t finish reading the chapter because I was laughing so hard at the thought of Damian being the Karma Chameleon.  I had to find a place to use it, and here was just about as good a place as any.  So, thank you Kimura Hana, both for your great story and the inspiration for part of this chapter.**

**Standard Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.**


	9. 9

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 9

_The following takes place two weeks after chapter 8_

 

“Hood!  On your…ooh, sorry.”

Red Robin winced as he saw the crook, who had been sneaking up on Red Hood’s left, punch his older brother square in the helmet.  Red Hood’s head rocked back as the blow stunned the surprised vigilante.  Quickly regaining his footing, Hood blocked a follow up blow and delivered a crushing head butt that broke the criminal’s nose with a sickening crunch, and sent the man to the pavement, unconscious.

“Thanks for the head’s up, Replacement.  Remind me to return the favor later.”  Hood’s sarcasm was palpable as the B team searched their surroundings to make sure Hood’s last victim was actually the last.  “Are the thieves in Gotham so desperate for something to do that they have sunk to robbing dentist’s offices?”

“It seems to be the hot target lately.  Oracle, come in.”  Red Robin waited for a response while he thought about the recent rash of crimes at medical offices.  Given the nature of the items stolen, there was no doubt in their minds that this was the work of Daka’s Oshimaida Syndicate. 

Unfortunately, that knowledge did nothing to explain what the varied items could possibly be used to build.  Additionally, crime rates had risen dramatically in Gotham over the past few weeks.  The Reds were doing everything they could to stem the tide and assist the GCPD, but it amounted to little.  Word had hit the streets, and hit the streets hard.  Batman had been completely absent from the Gotham nightlife for a month.  Emboldened by the lack of the Dark Knight, Gotham’s underbelly had risen from the darkness to become far bolder in their attempts.  The situation had grown so bad that, in what the criminal element resoundingly saw as a victory, the Commissioner had stopped using the Bat-Signal, frustrated at the lack of response.

“Oracle here.  Red Robin, did you two finish at the dentist’s office yet?”

“Yes, Oracle, and I’m proud to report no cavities.  Also proud to report that they did not get away this time.  Send in the police to pick these guys up.  I think we’re just about ready for a break out here.”

“Sorry, Red Robin.  No such luck tonight.  Gotham Children’s Dentistry, three blocks north.  The silent alarm just went off.  Get there now!”

Red Hood keyed his radio.  “Come on.  Another dentist?  What are they stealing?”

Oracle’s annoyed response came almost on top of Hood’s remark.  “Well, if you get up there, nothing.  Or, we can just wait around for the insurance claim, if you don’t think the children of Gotham need quality dental care.”

Already on their way, Red Hood replied, “Fine, fine, we’re going.  Just for my information, where are the police in this whole thing?”

Oracle sighed, “Responding to five other robberies of medical clinics.  Now, get to the next office.  You have three more to investigate after this one.  The hits just keep on coming.”

Red Robin spoke up, “Going back to my original point, when are we going to get a break, or some help out here?”

“Batgirl is already on the west side of town, responding to a list of burglaries of her own.  The Birds are busy in Newtown on a stakeout, I can’t reach them to pull them out.  The two of you shouldn’t even be together, with the amount of work we have tonight.  I’m even considering calling in Superman, just to give us a little extra coverage.”

Red Robin took a deep breath before responding, “No, you know how… _he_ …felt about Metas in Gotham.  We may not be able to stop all of them, but we will do what we can.  If you want us to split up, just let us know.”

Oracle sighed again, “I know.  Finish this assignment, then I’ll give you each something special to work on.  I’ll see what I can get the police working on, give you a bit of a break in the action.  You will still have to get some investigating done, but the crimes have already been committed.”

The Reds swung around a corner to find a truck backing up to the rear door of the Gotham Children’s Dentistry building.  Two men were waiting at the loading door with a portable x-ray machine, festooned with smiley face stickers and colorful butterflies, obviously taken from within the clinic. 

“We’ll get back to you, Oracle.  We have work to do here.”  Red Robin cut the transmission as he and Red Hood threw themselves into a fresh offensive.

Back at the cave, Barbara switched to monitor Batgirl.  Dick came up behind her and kissed her cheek before asking, “How’s it going out there tonight?”

Barbara closed her eyes and counted to three before answering.  “It’s busy tonight.  The criminals have officially noticed that Batman is no longer patrolling Gotham.  There is more going on than the boys and the police can deal with.  You know, just making an appearance would drop the crime rate to something manageable again.”

Dick looked away, then took a step away.  He had thought he was ready to return to patrol, but just hadn’t been able to bring himself to leave the cave.  He had first explained it away as still recovering from his injuries.  Then, his excuse became that Damian had just returned from the hospital, and the boy needed him.  Now, he had run out of excuses, but still had not returned to the streets.  Instead, he grew surly and withdrawn when asked about his return to patrol.  It had gotten to the point where even Alfred tried to avoid him around patrol hours.

Dick minced his words, “Well, I’ve still got the limp, and, I think we need some better leads before…”

“Dick, I’m not trying to push you into anything, but Gotham is falling apart.”

His back to Barbara, Dick whispered, “I’m not ready yet.”

“Dick, Batman is…”

He turned his head and snapped, “I said I’m not ready!”  He stormed off towards the locker room as Barbara watched him go, feeling tears welling up in her eyes at her inability to soothe him.

_Fifteen minutes later…_

“Grayson, what are you doing here?”

Dick looked up as Damian stood in the doorway to the locker room.  A fine sheen of sweat stood out on Damian’s forehead, signifying that he had walked down the stairs, instead of taking the elevator.  Even several weeks out of the hospital, the young Robin hadn’t fully regained his strength, no matter how hard he had pushed himself.  Another couple weeks and the cast should be ready to come off his leg, but until then, Dr. Thompkins has suggested he try to get around without the wheelchair as much as possible.  Her thought process had been two-fold: one, he needed to get his strength back as soon as possible, and two, she had correctly deduced that he didn’t fully trust his new knee.  No matter how many times he had been told that the new knee was actually stronger than the bone it was connected to, he still reported that it felt different, weird different.  Dr. Thompkins knew that he would trust the new joint more if he used it more.

Dick was happy that Damian had walked downstairs, but wasn’t sure his boy was ready for the exertion.  “What do you mean?  I live here.”

Damian took a step into the locker room, his crutch tip squeaking on the tile floor. “No, I mean, what are you doing _here_?  Todd and Drake have been on patrol for over three hours.  You should be out there with them.”

_Not you too, Damian._   “I…I can’t…not yet.  I’m still recovering.  Batman…Batman can’t be seen to have any weaknesses in the field.  I’m not ready yet.”

“Bullshit.”

Dick’s head shot up, a shocked look on his face, “What did you say to me?”

Damian met Dick’s gaze, his resolve not wavering, “I said ‘Bullshit’.  Why are you really down here?  Don’t tell me you’re still injured.  I’ve seen the way you’ve been around the manor the past couple weeks.  You are fine as ‘Dick Grayson’.  Why does that level of fine not extend to ‘Batman’?”

Dick looked away, a habit he had become more familiar with recently, “You wouldn’t understand, Damian.”

Damian began getting frustrated with his eldest brother.  “Why?  Don’t tell me it’s because I’m ten years old, don’t treat me like a child, Grayson.  I’m not.”  He took a couple more limping, uncomfortable steps forward, until he was right in front of Dick.  Dick had to look up to see the child’s face.  “You have been a crime fighter for over fifteen years.  You have been injured before, and you will be injured again.  What is stopping you now?”

The dam broke on Dick’s emotions.  Fat tears began leaking down his cheeks as he grabbed Damian and pulled him the rest of the way forward, into a hug.  He had to be careful not to pull too hard or fast, in order to keep the casted foot under the boy.  “I-I’m _scared_.  Don’t you get it?  I’m scared to go out there again.  I don’t want anything like the warehouse to ever happen again.  I don’t care that I got injured, that happens.  What really scares me is that _you_ got injured.  I almost lost you.  I couldn’t survive it if I lost you; you are more important to me than anything.  You are more than just a brother to me, and I can’t forgive myself for putting you in a position to get maimed.  What would Bruce say if he could see what I let happen to you?”

Damian had returned the hug lightly.  “From what I knew of him, he wouldn’t say anything.  He would go out there, find the people responsible, and turn their bones into pulp and dust.  You didn’t put me in that position any more than I did.  That is where the investigation led.  I don’t blame you for…this,” Damian held up his crutch and gestured to his cast, “…And you shouldn’t blame yourself, either.”

Dick smiled weakly at the child as he wiped his eyes on the bottom of Damian’s t-shirt.  “You still need me here.”

“Yes, I do, but Gotham needs Batman more.  Come with me.”

Damian led Dick out of the locker room and back to the computer, where Barbara nervously sat.  She had overheard most of what had been said as the voices had drifted from the changing area.  _Damian has always held a power over Dick that no one but Bruce could match.  Maybe this isn’t going to be the bad idea I originally thought._

“Gordon, play back that piece from the news this evening.  Just the ending, please.”

Barbara didn’t say anything as she pulled up the news recording from earlier in the evening.  A middle aged newscaster was giving the end of an editorial piece.

“…As the crime rate in Gotham rises, the populace continues to grow ever more fearful.  The criminal element has grown bolder as their essentially free reign over the city goes mostly uncontested.  Crime has started to move out of the darkness of night, into broad daylight.  The police are overwhelmed with the increase in their workload over the past few weeks.  Let me take this time to echo Commissioner Gordon’s sentiments from yesterday’s press conference: Batman, where are you?  There are some that say your extended absence is a deserved vacation, or that Gotham is getting what it deserves.  Whatever the reason, let me speak for a vast majority of Gotham when I say: come back Batman, Gotham City needs you.  Janice, back to you.”

Barbara turned off the recording and turned to Dick, who had been silent for the entire clip.  She gasped when she looked behind Damian and saw…nothing.  “Where did he go?”

Damian didn’t get a chance to respond as a frantic call came in from Red Robin.  “Oracle, we need help out here.  This is bigger than we can handle.  Is there anyone else available?  Anyone at all?”

Hearing the fear and pain in Red Robin’s voice, Barbara turned back to the computer and keyed the radio.  “I’ll try to get someone there.  Maybe the police can spare some officers for back-up.”

A deep, gravelly voice echoed from the rear of the cave, shocking its occupants while filling them with hope, and a bit of fear.  “Don’t bother looking, someone is available.  Tell them that Batman is on his way.”

Barbara relayed the message with a tear of joy rolling down her cheek, as the Batmobile rumbled to life for the first time in weeks before escorting the Dark Knight back to the streets of Gotham.

 

**A/N:  This and chapter 10 were supposed to be one chapter, but I liked where this one ended, so I decided to split it into two chapters.  Next chapter will have the sleuthing that I thought would be more appropriate on its own.  If anyone has questions as to why Damian is still in a cast several weeks after his wounding, even with his advanced healing, that is coming from personal experience.  Due to the blood flow patterns to the bones in the foot, healing takes longer.  I broke one of those bones several years ago, and I was in a cast for three months because the fracture just wouldn’t heal completely.  Don’t worry, Robin will be back at Batman’s side sometime before the end of the story.**

**Standard Disclaimer is standard.**


	10. 10

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 10

_The following takes place immediately after chapter 9_

 

Red Robin picked himself up off the concrete and jumped back into the fight.  Following the arrival of the moving truck outside of Gotham Children’s Dentistry had been two car loads of enforcers, all ready to ensure that the robbery of the dental office went off without a hitch.  Red Robin and Red Hood had quickly become separated as they attempted to finish the fight in as efficient a manner as possible.  They had succeeded in reducing the number of combatants by half, but could not stop the moving truck from making off with the portable x-ray machine.  However, their presence had prevented the criminals from returning to the office to steal anything else.

Making his way back to Hood’s side, Red Robin wiped a trail of blood from his nose, the vital fluid darkening the black gauntlet.  As he regrouped, Hood looked at the state of his partner and chuckled, “Sorry, Burger Boy.  Meant to warn you about that one.  I guess we’re even now.”

“Maybe you can help me with something.  I was busy getting punched in the face at the time, so I couldn’t quite make it out, but it sounded like Oracle said that Batman was on his way.”  As they spoke, the Reds launched a new offensive, trying a coordinated effort to take out the remaining thugs.  These enforcers were smarter than any they had faced over the last week.  They at least had some martial arts training, and were more than competent at hand to hand fighting.

As he blocked an incoming series of jabs, Red Hood responded, “No, it wasn’t just you getting punched in the face, although I did like seeing that.  She said that he is coming out.  Big Bird must have finally pulled his head out of…aahhh!”  Hood’s remark was cut off as his feet were swept out from under him and he fell unceremoniously to the ground.

“To hell with this,” While still lying on his side, Hood drew his pair of pistols and took aim.  Four quick shots later, and the remaining four thugs were lying on the pavement, writhing in pain and grasping at the new holes in their kneecaps.

Red Robin offered his predecessor a hand to help him up.  To RR’s surprise, Hood took the offered hand and pulled himself up, showing just how tired the older man was.  “Come on, let’s get them tied up and get the police out to pick them up.”

The former Robins got to work, dragging the fallen henchmen together, to make better use of their dwindling supply of zip ties.  Red Robin couldn’t help noticing that Red Hood was now walking with a pronounced limp.  The man had landed knee first on the pavement, adding to the festivities of the evening, which was quickly turning to morning.

The last zip tie in place, Red Hood sat back on the loading dock and massaged his knee.  “That’s it.  It will be dawn by the time we get back.  I don’t care if Big Bird is coming or not, we have to get home before you turn into a pumpkin.”

Red Robin chuckled at the reference, again showing his fatigue.  “No argument from me.  I hate to say it, but I hope Al is still up.  I need someone to look at this nose before I drag myself to the office in the morning.”

On the breeze, a faint siren could be heard approaching the clinic as the slightest hint of dawn began to lighten the sky.  “I’m going to check out the clinic before the cops get here.  Maybe I can find a clue to their plan.  Keep the cops busy with collecting the trash for a few minutes.”  Red Robin swept away into the clinic as Red Hood took a quick look at the two cars belonging to the gang.

When Red Robin returned from his sweep of the dental office, finding nothing of note other than the one stolen x-ray machine, the police were on scene and loading the goons into the vehicles for transport to holding.  Less than a minute later, Red Robin’s jaw dropped as the Batmobile pulled up next to the police cruiser.  Batman swept out of the vehicle, all business as he addressed the lead officer and got a short report. 

Red Hood threw an arm around Red Robin’s shoulder, shaking the teen out of his shocked state, “Well, will you look at that.  It wasn’t just wishful thinking, after all.”

Batman approached the battered pair with a smile on his face as he saw them standing together, “Looks like I missed the party.  At least it brought out your brotherly instincts.  What did I miss?”

Red Robin answered, unable to keep a smile of his own from his face, “We got here as they were taking a portable x-ray machine out of the building.  We tried to stop them, but the other two cars showed up.  We did all we could, but they got away with the machine.  The truck was unmarked, with no plates that I could see.”

Red Hood spoke up, “We couldn’t stop them from getting away with the machine.  It’s like they just kept coming.  The last few had some pretty formidable combat training, they took us too long to handle.”

Batman’s head snapped up as he heard Hood’s explanation.  The phrasing was the same Batman and Robin had used after their incident at the warehouse.  He turned his cowled head towards the cars as he said, “’They just kept coming’.  Did either of you check the cars?”

Red Hood nodded, “Yeah, but just a cursory look.  I didn’t have a chance to pop the trunks to look for evidence.”

Batman took a step towards the cars, but stopped as a mechanical beep emanated from behind him.  He looked back to see the officer who had given him the update check his watch, as it beeped to signify the passing of the hour.  The beep was echoed from the direction of the cars.  Batman took another step forward to listen closer, then turned and yelled, “Take cover!”

Batman sprinted and dove, tackling Red Robin and Red Hood, and made sure his cape covered as much of them as possible as the first car exploded in a blinding flash of fire and noise.  Two seconds later, the second car exploded with the same amount of force, sending debris shooting across the lot.  Burning wires and insulation rained down on the Bat boys, still being held under the protective cape.

Popping his head out to take a look at the cars he had been investigating mere minutes before, Red Hood patted Batman’s shoulder and said, “I take back my earlier remarks.  Thanks for showing up, Bats.”

An hour passed as they began a forensic investigation of the explosions.  Red Robin took several samples of the wreckage, hoping to be able to match the explosive to the warehouse bombing.  As the sun made an appearance in the morning sky, Batman hustled the Reds into the Batmobile and set the autopilot for the quickest route back to the cave.

It was a quiet ride, for the most part.  Red Hood and Red Robin were too tired to make more than passing comments, and Batman was too focused on the exploding cars and trying to keep the flashbacks at bay to begin much of an inquiry.

As the Batmobile passed smoothly out of the city and began winding into the foothills, Red Hood turned to Batman and asked, “How did you know?”

Startled, Batman looked up from the map he had been studying, “Huh?”

“I said, how did you know the cars were going to blow up?”

Looking over at his eldest little brother, Batman said, “Oh, that.  Well, you heard the cop’s watch beep, right?”  Red Hood nodded, “Well, at the same time, I heard a similar beep coming from the cars.  Then I remembered what you said, about how they just kept coming.  That is the last thing that D- _Robin_ and I remembered, and exactly how we described it, before we got all blown up.  I just…I promised myself in the hospital that no more of my family would get blown up, if I could stop it.”

A hand snaked through from the back seat to rest comfortingly on Batman’s shoulder.  Red Robin said quietly, “Thanks for keeping your promise.  Thanks for making an appearance.  If nothing else, you raised my spirits, just by showing up.  If you hadn’t shown up, I don’t know what would have happened.”

Batman patted the hand resting on his shoulder.  “Please don’t say things like that, it’s enough to give me nightmares.  I haven’t had one in a very long time, and I really don’t want to start again now.”

Red Hood spoke up, “Oh, don’t worry about it, Replacement.  If Big Bird starts having nightmares again, he’ll just go running to his human teddy bear, just you watch.”

The Batmobile cruised to a stop on the turntable.  As the canopy opened, Red Hood said, “How about tomorrow night you try a full patrol?  I could use the help out there.”  Red Robin elbowed Hood as he passed by, eliciting a smile from the older man as he took off his helmet.  “Okay, okay.  _We_ could use the help.”

“Dear me, are you just getting in…oh my!”  Alfred, who was pouring a cup of coffee for a harried-looking Barbara, half asleep at the Bat-Computer, nearly dropped the carafe as Batman stepped out of the Batmobile.  _When did he leave last night?  It must have been after I went to sleep._

The butler asked hopefully, “Master Dick, may I take this as a sign that the city will soon be returning to some semblance of order?”  He didn’t want to push for an answer, but he knew how badly the city needed Batman.

Dick removed the cowl and gave the old man his winning smile.  “Maybe tomorrow, Alfred, Batman will be able to stop a crime or two from happening.  Tonight, I guess, was more shaking off the cobwebs.  At least the suit still fits.”

Alfred gave a rare, heartfelt smile to his oldest remaining charge.  “Come, you need to get some rest before you set the world back on its proper axis.  Get changed and get some sleep.”  Raising his voice, he addressed the Reds, who were trudging towards the showers, “That goes for all of you, as well.”

Red Robin turned back to the butler, “Alfred, after I shower, could you look at my nose?  I don’t think it’s too bad, but I want it checked out before I go into the office later.”

Turning, Alfred addressed Tim, “Nonsense, Master Timothy.  You have already been called out for the day.  Seems you were in a minor fender bender on your way home from work yesterday, and you are feeling a bit sore.  You have a doctor’s note from Dr. Thompkins prescribing a few days of rest, but as today is Friday, I dare say you will be back to work on Monday.  Get yourself cleaned up and I will tend to your injuries.”

Smiling, Tim sighed, “Alfred, what would we do without you?”

From the computer, Barbara sighed, “At least they’re all home safe, now.  I’m going to bed.  ‘Night, all.”

Smiling as he stripped off his cape, Dick said, “Don’t you mean, ‘Morning, all’?”

“I’m too tired to come up with something for that.”  Barbara wheeled herself over to Dick and pulled him down to face level to give him a kiss before rolling to the elevator.

After a set of long, hot showers and an once-over from Alfred times three, the brothers dragged themselves up to bed.  There was a series of quietly mumbled salutations that could have been “good night” as three generations of Robin split off into their respective rooms and the comfort of their soft beds for some much needed rest.  The oldest, however, had another idea.  He walked into his room just long enough to ensure his middle brothers were in their rooms with their doors closed.  Once he was sure he was clear, Dick snuck down the hall and entered Damian’s room.

Unknown to any of the brothers, Alfred had followed them up the stairs at a respectful distance, just to ensure that they all were tucked in.  He stopped at the top of the stairs as he saw Dick leave his room and sneak down the hall.  Alfred was only mildly surprised that Dick entered Damian’s room, then smiled that his oldest charge would choose the comfort of his youngest charge, instead of Barbara.  _Perhaps they are not back to that point in their on-again, off-again relationship?_   Satisfied that everything was in order, Alfred returned to his rooms for a short nap of his own.

Dick put on the stealth that years as Robin, Nightwing, and now Batman, had honed, and tip toed up to his youngest brother’s bed.  The youngest was sound asleep, laying on his side, facing away from Dick.  Dick sat as lightly as he could on the edge of the bed, not wanting to wake the child, and breathed, “Thank you, little one.  You always know how to get me to do what I need to do.  You really are just like Bruce.  He would be proud of you.  I know I am.”  Dick laid down next to Damian, running his fingers lightly through the boy’s hair before falling asleep, with a smile on his face and an arm wrapped protectively around his youngest brother.

Hours later, Damian awoke, a bit groggy, but comfortable and warm.  The summer sun streamed in through the parted curtains, falling on the bed in angular rays ending just below his head.  Attempting to roll over, he found himself held tight and unable to move.  Easing an eye open a fraction, the still sleepy child saw something that his mind couldn’t readily explain.  It seemed that, overnight, he had sprouted a third arm, coming just under his right arm.  However, this arm was bigger and longer than his own arms, and seemed to be wearing a different color sleeve than his current pajama top.  As he tried again to get away from this new appendage, he was pulled tighter into the warm frame nestled behind him as a sleepy grumble sounded.

Waking up a bit more, Damian’s mind began to process that the new arm wasn’t his after all, but belonged to his current captor.  _If it’s not mine, then that must mean…_   Damian lifted his casted left foot and aimed a light kick behind him.  His heel connected with what he assumed was a shin.  The person holding him from behind jumped and grumbled in sleepy pain, but refused to let go.

Damian sighed, then spoke quietly, “Grayson, what are you doing here?”

The older man replied in a sleep-slurred tone, not opening his eyes, “Didn’t we have this conversation already?  I’m comfy, go back to sleep, D.”

“Don’t tell me you had a nightmare and needed someone to comfort you in the night?”  Damian had heard countless tales of how, as a boy, Dick had been plagued by nightmares.  His only recourse at the time had been to seek comfort from Bruce.  Damian had gone to Dick several times himself, so his accusation held a little less contempt than normal.

Dick sighed contentedly, then replied, “No, no nightmares.  Just wanted to thank you for getting me back on track.  I think I can go out there again, now.  I need to be ready for the day I get my partner back, so I need to get a few thugs off the streets to make it safe for you again.”

Unseen by his big brother, Damian smiled.

From the door, Tim and Jason could be heard whispering back and forth, watching the snuggling pair.

Jason whispered, “See, what did I tell you?”

“No, you said teddy bear, not grizzly bear,” Tim replied.

“You know we can hear you, right?” Damian growled without moving, smirking at the grizzly bear comment.

Smiling, Jason said to Tim, “Okay, I can see grizzly bear.  Still, it works for them.”  The pair walked away, down to the kitchen for breakfast.

“You know, they’ll expect you to be nice now, and I wish you would, too.” Dick whispered into Damian’s hair.

Damian snorted, “I heard this phrase in a movie, now you have given me the perfect place to use it.  ‘You can wish in one hand, and crap in the other.  See which one gets filled first.’”

Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Dick said, “Damian, they _are_ your brothers.”

“Through no fault of my own.  As I recall, I wasn’t given a choice in the matter.”

Acting offended, Dick slowly sat up, “Well, if that’s how you want to be about it, I’m not sure I want to cuddle with you anymore.”

Sitting up himself, Damian replied, “Best offer I’ve had all day.”

Dick wanted to be upset, but he caught the small smile that Damian tried to hide, letting him know that the boy wasn’t actually as gruff as he led on.  “Maybe I can not cuddle with you some more tonight?”

Damian sighed, a little more dramatically than necessary, “If it will make you feel better, then I might consent to it, but only to get Batman doing his job again.”

Dick smiled as he got up and left the room to get dressed.

After breakfast, Dick called everyone down to the cave to brainstorm what all the recent thefts could be leading towards.

“Barbara, could you hack the police database?  I want a list of everything that has been reported stolen in Gotham in the past two months.  Tim, search every database you can find.  I want to know if Daka ever tried to patent anything, if he ever worked on any other big projects, anything that might explain what’s going on.  Oh, while you’re at it, look up projects for his partners, too.  Oshimaida and Fuji had to work on other projects, maybe there is something there.”

Tim turned to the computer to start his search, “Good idea, Dick.  Daka already used one of Oshimaida’s designs, maybe we can find other plans the same way.”

Turning, Dick continued, “Jay, I have something different for you to do:  I want you to go home.”

Sputtering, Jason replied, “What?  Why?  Tired of my company already?  I get it, you really don’t want me around, after all.”

Dick shook his head, “It’s not like that at all.  The recent increase in crime around Gotham has hit everywhere, except your territory.  I want to know why.  Why is your section of the city the only one not suffering under this blitz?”

“I don’t need to leave to answer that, Dickiebird.  My territory already had a higher crime rate than the rest of the city.  Everywhere else has just caught up, making my area look better by comparison.  Plus, there isn’t much there for an international criminal syndicate to steal.  No major manufacturing, no high-end retail, just simple, low income folks trying to make a living.”

Dick nodded, then continued, “Normally, I would say that you’re right, but I have been watching the numbers.  The rest of the city may have caught up, but the crime rate in your territory has actually dropped a couple percent over the last few months.  Now, I can be nice and say that you are doing a good job, but Damian’s nose would start bleeding if he tried to hold in a laugh that big.” Dick held up his hands to defend himself, and to stop Jason as the boy on the other side of the room snickered.  “He _is_ doing a good job, Damian.  However, crime rates don’t drop in Gotham without a good reason, and your charming personality just is not a good enough reason, Jay.”

Accepting the explanation, Jason nodded, “So, what do you want me to do, then?”

“I want you to do what you normally do: patrol, talk to your informants, get the pulse of the streets.  If Daka moved in under your nose, we need to know about it.  I want you to spend a couple days getting back into your old routine, and report what you find out.  Don’t worry, Batman is back to work the rest of the city.  You should go now, I want you to be able to get the feel of both the daytime and nighttime crowds.  Be safe, Little Wing.”

Jason moved to leave, but stopped and placed a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “I’ll get you what I can.  See you in a few days.  Oh, by the way, you really shouldn’t have worried about Lil’ Demon’s nose bleeding from holding in his laugh; it would have bled just as much if he let it out.”  Dick’s jaw dropped at the implication as Jason made his way out of the cave.

Damian limped up to Dick.  Dick noticed that Damian was walking without the crutch today, with only the occasional grimace of discomfort.  “What do you want me to do, Grayson?”

The elder checked his watch before responding.  “What I want you to do, Little D, is go back upstairs.”  Before the shocked expression could form on the boy’s face, Dick continued.  “Alfred should be coming for you in just a couple minutes anyway, so you might as well get a head start on getting up the stairs.  You have an appointment; it’s cast-off day.”

A look of uncharacteristic shock and relief broke across Damian’s face.  Both Tim and Barbara turned around from the computers at Dick’s announcement, both beaming at the news.  Pulling himself together, Damian couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face as he whispered, “Finally.”

As the boy turned, Dick grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, whispering in his ear, “It’s about time I get my boy back in one piece.  I know you’ve wanted this since you woke up in the hospital.  Now, hurry up, we’re going to need to put all our heads together to figure this one out.”

Damian closed his eyes and leaned into the embrace slightly, then hobbled up the stairs, moving faster than he had in months.  Dick turned around and beamed at Tim and Barbara, still watching him from the computers, “I do love being able to give him good news.  Let’s get to work and see if we can get some more by the time he gets back.”

Two minutes later, just enough time for Damian to have made it to the top of the stairs, then turn around and come back down, the boy appeared next to Dick, tapping him on the shoulder, “Grayson, Pennyworth can’t take me to the hospital to get my cast off.  I’ve only ever been there as Robin.  I have to go in uniform to keep up appearances.”

Dick smirked, “I wondered how long it would take you to catch that.  You’re not going to the hospital.  I would think, after what happened the last time they took off one of your casts, you wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about going back.  Dr. Thompkins is going to meet you at her clinic today to remove the cast herself.  It shouldn’t take more than five minutes, so she can get away with doing it on a break and not enter it into a chart note.  Now, hurry up, Alfred is coming for you.  You should make it back to the stairs right about the time he reaches the bottom step.”

Turning, Damian could just see Alfred’s feet coming into view coming down the stairs.  He limped away again as Dick tousled his hair.  Meeting the butler at the bottom of the stairs and unable to keep the smile off his face, Damian said, “I’m ready to go, Pennyworth.”

The butler gave the hint of a small smile, “Excellent, young sir.  Let’s be on our way, then.”

Twenty-two minutes later, Alfred pulled the car into the alley next to the clinic.  Looking around at the surroundings, Damian asked, “Pennyworth, why didn’t we just pull into the parking lot?”

“Two reasons, young sir.  First, if you were to go in through the front door, the receptionist would be required to create an official medical record for you, and since there is no record on file anywhere of ‘Damian Wayne’ breaking a bone, it would look highly suspicious and could get Dr. Thompkins in quite a bit of trouble.  Second,” Alfred pointed to Leslie, who was opening a side door to the building, “Dr. Thompkins is waiting right there, so we must hurry.”

They were led to an empty exam room, where Dr. Thompkins quickly shut the door.  “Hello, gentlemen.  I’m sorry to be so rushed, but we only have until the staff return from lunch to get your cast off and get you out of here.  Damian, honey, hop up on the table and let’s get going.”

Damian did as he was told, then waited and watched as Leslie took out the saw and calibrated the blade for the correct depth.  As the doctor was moving the saw into position for the cut, Damian suddenly stopped her.  “Wait!  Dr. Thompkins, is this saw…you know… _working?_ ”

She stopped and straightened up before saying, “To the best of my knowledge.”

He held out his hand, “May I?”

Leslie smiled even though she felt some shock at the request, “You want to cut your own cast off?”

Damian looked surprised.  _Wait, I can do that?_   “Well, I just wanted to see the saw, but…I mean, can I?”

Leslie handed over the saw with a satisfied grin.  _He definitely is a Wayne._   “See the button there?  Yes, that one.  It’s a momentary contact switch; the saw will only be on as long as you hold down the button.  Give it a try first, the motor has a little more kick than you will be expecting.”

Damian held up the micro circular saw and regarded it with a look approaching awe.  He touched the button, giving power to the machine.  It jumped in his hand, but he managed to hold on to the implement.  He gave the button another tap, and was able to keep control with both hands.  The third touch was held, giving the tool time to reach full speed.  Damian then gave a rare smile to Dr. Thompkins.

She returned the smile, “Ready?”  The boy nodded.  “Okay, you are going to do one straight pass from top to bottom.  I already calibrated the saw, so you don’t have to worry about slicing your leg, but be sure to let go of the button when I tell you, okay?”

Positioning the saw, the boy’s hand began to shake.  _What am I doing?  But, this is so cool, she is going to let me do this!_   He swallowed, then asked, “Pennyworth, Doctor, would you please hold my leg steady?”

Both adults approached and grabbed hold, making sure to keep their fingers well away from the line the child would soon be cutting.  Taking another deep breath, and holding it, Damian began to cut with a slight shake to his hands.  To both Alfred and Leslie’s relief, Damian cut a straight line, taking his time to make sure he was going just deep enough.

As he approached the end of the cast, Leslie brought a hand around to guide the saw the last inch before saying, “Okay, stop Damian.”  She took the saw back and made the final cut, ensuring that the boy didn’t embed the tool in his foot as the blade broke free of the casting material.

“Do we need to make another cut?” the boy asked eagerly.

Smiling again, she shook her head, “No, this will be just fine.”  She placed the saw back in its drawer, then pulled out a broad-bladed knife and began using it to pry open the cut.  As the cast began to loosen, a strange tingling began crawling up and down Damian’s leg, not exactly unpleasant, but definitely off-putting.  Leslie then put down the knife and grabbed the now open section in both hands, looking up at the boy for dramatic effect, and said, “Ready?”

Damian nodded at the doctor, staring intently at his own leg as she spread the cast wide enough for him to slip his leg out.  He nearly kicked the doctor in the face with the new lightness found on the end of his leg, but years of experience had told Leslie exactly when to dodge.

_I don’t know what I expected, but I really don’t think it was…that_.  Damian gasped in wonder at his appendage.  Looking up, he whispered, “It’s so pale.”

Smiling, Leslie thought, _I’ve seen the scars on this boy, surely this wasn’t his first cast?_   “Keep _you_ locked away for a month or so without sunlight and _you_ would get that light, too.”  She grabbed the foot to feel for circulation.  “Wiggle your toes for me, Damian?  Good, that’s good,” she stated as he complied.  “Now move your ankle.  How does that feel?”

Damian winced as he turned his ankle around, “Stiff.  I’m going to be sore later, aren’t I?”

Alfred spoke up for the first time in a while, “I don’t doubt it, Master Damian, but it will get better soon.”

Damian leaned forward to take a closer look at the pasty skin, then recoiled back strongly, “What is that smell?”

Leslie gave a mock-serious sigh and placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, “That, honey, is the smell of a leg that hasn’t been washed in over a month.  I have no doubt that the odor will go away as soon as Alfred gets you in a good, hot bath.”

Damian brought his right leg onto the exam table, as it had been hanging off the side uncomfortably.  He gasped again as he saw his legs side by side.  “Doctor, what happened?  Why is that one so much smaller now?”

“Have you really never had a cast before, Damian?”  The boy shook his head.  “I see, well, you haven’t used your calf muscles in a while.  Are you familiar with the phrase ‘use it or lose it’?”

Fear was in Damian’s eyes as he stuttered, “Ye…Yeah?”

Leslie felt immediate compassion for her patient as she heard the waver in his voice.  _Oh, you poor darling.  Did no one tell you what to expect?  There have been enough broken bones in that family, someone should have had a talk with him._   “Don’t look so distraught, dear.  You will build up your muscle again soon.  Until then, however, you need to be careful when you walk.”  She placed a hand on his right knee, “This leg is now your strong one.  I know you still have mixed feelings about the new knee, but you need to channel a little bit of a good friend of ours, and find a way to help yourself out.  Think of it this way, you still have a leg and a half.  With a little patience and a lot of hard work, in a couple weeks you will have two whole legs again.”

Damian looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes, “I…well…I…yeah, okay.”

_That may be the least ‘Damian’ answer I have ever heard come from him._   “Think of it this way: how often do you think of your other bones?  Look at your leg, it is intact, and as much yours as the other one.  Don’t think of what’s going on inside of it, just use it as you would your other knee.”

Damian was silent for a minute as he digested the advice.  “Thank you, Dr. Thompkins.  We should probably be going now.  I’m sure we have already taken too long for this visit.”

She nodded, “You may be right, but first I want to see you stand and walk before you leave.  Be careful getting up, and lead with your strong leg first.”

Damian stood on his right leg before slowly putting his left foot down.  He gingerly applied a bit of weight to the foot, then quickly lifted it up again with a wince as the tingling turned into pain.  Biting his lip in an imitation of the habit Dick had so long ago, Damian tried again.  This time he was able to put a little more weight on it, and determinedly kept his foot on the floor through the pain, which was quickly fading.  He glanced up at the expectant adults and gave a small grin before promptly falling over as he tried to put too much weight on it.  The knee buckled shakily, and Damian only kept himself off the floor by grabbing on to the exam table next to him.

Sighing, Leslie approached Damian as he set himself back on the table.  “Don’t feel discouraged, Damian.  You may not think so, but that was very good for just a couple minutes out of a cast.  I do hate to rush you, especially since you haven’t tried walking yet, but our time really is up.  Alfred can help you into the car.  I’ll stop by tonight after I get off to check on you, okay?”  The boy and the butler both nodded.

As Alfred approached to help the boy off the table, Damian gave a disappointed look.  “Pennyworth, I apologize.  It was stupid of me to forget, but I honestly didn’t think of it until just now.  I didn’t bring my other…oh, there it is.”  Alfred had anticipated the lack of foresight and was now holding both a sock and a shoe in each hand, both of course matching the ones currently worn on Damian’s right foot.  Damian quickly put them on, with only minor gasps and winces of pain.  He then stood up, and immediately started to dip towards the floor again before Alfred caught him.  Placing his arm under the child’s, he tried some encouraging words, “Lean on me, child.  Try to put a little weight on it, but not a lot just yet.  Come, we have taken up enough of the good Doctor’s time.  Dr. Thompkins, until tonight, then.  You will, of course, stay for dinner.”  It wasn’t a question.

The pair hobbled back to the alley, which miraculously still held the car in one piece.  After settling Damian in the front seat and moving around to the driver’s seat, Alfred drove off, anxious to return home to see Dick’s reaction to the removal of the cast. 

Several minutes into the trip home, Alfred said, “You did remarkably well today, Master Damian.  I believe some form of a treat may be in order.  Would you have a preference of where to stop?”

As tempting as the offer was, there was only one thing on Damian’s mind at the moment.  “Thank you, Pennyworth, but no matter how tempting ice cream sounds right now, I don’t think I would be able to keep it down past the smell of this leg.  It’s awful, how are you not complaining about it?  I think the only thing I want right now is that bath Dr. Thompkins talked about.”  Damian caught another whiff of his leg as the car fan was turned on, “Maybe _two_ baths, Pennyworth.”

“As you wish, young sir.”  Alfred filed away the mention of ice cream, determined to make sure it was available for dessert after dinner.

_Meanwhile…_

Twenty-five minutes after Alfred and Damian left the cave, Barbara’s first search began generating hits.  For the next few minutes she compiled the information into a single file for presentation.

“Dick, here it is, every robbery committed in Gotham over the past two months.  There’s…there’s more than I thought there would be.”  Barbara’s face sank as she checked the bottom of the screen and found the list stretching over ten pages of very small type.

Dick was back to all business.  He approached the computer, resting a hand on Barbara’s shoulder as he read over the screen.  “Are you able to whittle this down a bit for me?”

Nodding, she said, “Sure, what would you like?”

“First, separate it into solved and unsolved.  No use looking into crimes where the criminals have already been caught and the items returned.  Second, group it by items stolen.  If there are any repeats on the list, I want them next to each other.  Then, I want it separated by crimes where the police have a lead on a criminal.  Maybe there are some similarities in method or someone on the list we may know and be able to lean on for information.  After that, it needs to be chronologically ordered.  The types of crimes in Gotham changed a couple weeks ago.  I want to see if there are any patterns to what was stolen to see what they are really after.  Then, I…what?”

Barbara was staring at him, slack-jawed, as Dick launched into his laundry list of requirements.  Still staring at him in amazement, and with a slight shake of her head, she hit the ‘print’ button, then reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out a pack of highlighters.  After the document finished printing, she handed both to Dick.

With a sheepish grin, Dick meekly took the two items from Barbara and said, “Too much?”

“I’m not a secretary, Dick.  You’re supposed to be the leader here, so it’s time you led by example, instead of the ‘Batman’ approach of barking orders.”

“Am I really turning into him that much?  Maybe the cowl has magical properties we don’t know about.”

Turning back to the computer, Barbara hid her smile, “Yeah, whatever Wonder-Boy.  You have a big list to start going through.”

Turning to set himself at the table, Dick smirked, “That’s ‘Boy Wonder’, and I haven’t been that in a long time.”

Forgotten by the others, Tim spoke up loud enough to be heard from his own computer search, “I don’t know, Dick.  I wonder about you sometimes, but mostly it’s just about your mental health.”

Dick gave a dramatic sigh before saying, “Ah, I remember the good old days, when I used to have support from my friends in the cave.  I wonder what happened to those days.”

The other two smirked as all three returned to work.

Barbara spoke up a couple minutes later.  “Looks like the police have been falling down on the job a bit.”

Tim snorted and said, “Gee, what tipped you off?”

Ignoring the comment, she continued, “Dick, only eight percent of the crimes on that list have been solved.  Those look like the purse snatchings and home invasions.  The bigger crimes don’t even look like they have been investigated.”

Two heads snapped up at that revelation.  Tim spoke up first, “Ninety-two percent not investigated?  Could Daka have an insider in the Gotham Police Department?”

Dick wore a determined look as he said, “I’m going to see the Commissioner tonight; I’ll ask him.”

“Dad will be happy to see you, even if you are accusing his officers of corruption.”

The conversation ended and an icy silence reigned in the cave as they returned to their research.  After compiling his results, Dick spoke up again.  “Okay, looks like a mixed bag here.  Lots of electrical components, several categories of hardware supplies, and high end medical equipment.”

Tim was curious, “What kind of high end medical equipment?”

“Looks like imaging machines, mostly.  Portable X-ray machines, an MRI set up, micro cameras and scopes.  All less than three years old, and all listed as “Cobalt-Radium” devices.”

“Cobalt-Radium devices?” Tim asked a second before his face went pale.  “Dick, I…I think I know what they’re building.”

Barbara wore the same look, “I think I do, too.”

“Well, what…”

Tim cut him off, his eyes widening and a note of panic creeping into his normally subdued voice.  “They’re building a dirty bomb!”

Barbara continued, “A few years ago there were reports of terrorists raiding medical clinics and stealing radioactive material, with the intent of constructing what the government called a ‘radiation dispersal device.’  Think of it as a nuke, only this one doesn’t cause destruction, just cancer and slow and painful deaths.”

Tim picked up where she left off, “The threat was never considered to be too high, because even the biggest dirty bomb only has a short effective range, and the radiation can be contained.  The biggest threat of a dirty bomb is the panic it causes.  You put out the threat of a dirty bomb in Gotham, and the streets will fill with people trying to get out of town.  Widespread panic will set in.  How many people do you think will be trampled in the streets as a result of an announcement of possible radiation exposure?”

Dick ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at his little brother in disbelief.  “That…that can’t be it.  That can’t be the endgame.  I refuse to believe that a mad scientist is building that kind of weapon in my town.  There has to be something else.  Timmy, did your research into the scientists turn up anything yet?”

Tim had been sorting results when the talk turned to radiological disasters.  “Oshimaida is a bust.  His one big project was the metallurgy that we already had dealings with.  If he published anything else, it was either under another name, or has been lost to the pages of history.  Daka became almost exclusively focused on his shipping company.  He revolutionized computer tracking of merchandise.  You know that little scanner gun that the UPS guy uses to track your package?” The other two nodded, “Daka invented that.  He also worked in metallurgy, but not to the extent that Oshimaida did.  He published a paper positing the possibility of using radio waves to control human thought, but that was widely panned as too far out in left field and bordering on illegal experimentation. 

“Now, Fuji is interesting.  His published research has been a bit more Sci-Fi than the others.  He was obviously a Star Trek fan, because he began doing serious work on developing transporter technology and phased energy.  Matter-energy conversion seemed to almost be an obsession with him.  While his partners were looking for ways to make metal stronger, Fuji seemed to be looking for ways to revolutionize energy consumption.” Tim grew thoughtful, speaking in a lower voice, “If they had been successful, we might just be warping to other planets right now, instead of hoping the Hubble will last a couple more years.  He even had a…”

Tim’s eyes grew wide and a shocked smile curved his lips.  “I think I know what Daka is actually building.”

Tim got up and ran towards the stairs as Dick’s voice followed him, “Tim!  Wait!  What is it?”

A soft reply echoed down the stairs, “It’s not a bomb!”  Then the voice was gone.

Barbara asked, “Do you think we should follow him, or is he coming back?”

Before Dick could reply, and before Dick would think that Tim could make it upstairs and back, he returned, panting heavily and holding a small stack of magazines.  He put them on the table as he bent double, trying to catch his breath as he massaged a stitch in his side.  “I knew I recognized his name from somewhere,” he panted, “Help me look through these.  I know it’s here somewhere.”

Dick and Barbara both picked up a magazine, each an old issue of Popular Mechanics.  “Tim, this magazine is thirty years old, why… _how_ do you have it?”

Tim looked up, like he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, “Oh, well…You know I collect old magazines.  I like to see how people’s perceptions change over time, how far we’ve come.”

Smirking, Dick said, “Well, maybe I should let Jay know about your collection.  He swears someone stole his 1990 copy of Playboy with Pamela Anderson’s first centerfold.  Maybe you know where… _no…you didn’t!”_   Tim’s face could not have been redder if someone had spray painted it red.

Barbara, who had been about to defend Tim, stopped and started giggling at the teen’s flustered reaction.

Dick came around the table and threw an arm around Tim’s shoulders as the teen hung his head.  Dick barely kept from laughing as he gave a serious tone.  “Timmy, Timmy.  What are we going to do with you?  I always thought, you know, Alfred found it and threw it away, or maybe Bruce _confiscated_ it, but…you?  Maybe it’s best if I don’t tell Jay about this.  If I do, he’s liable to kill you.  He has been talking about that magazine for years.”

Tim tried to explain, but no words would come out.  Dick had never seen him so embarrassed.  Finally, Tim was able to choke out, “Please, don’t tell Alfred.  Or Jason, for that matter.”

“Timmy, do you really think there is anything in the manor that Alfred doesn’t know about?”  Tim paled at the thought.  “I’m just glad that you have something other than Popular Mechanics in that collection of yours.”

Before he could try to mount a defense, Tim’s eyes focused on the magazine in his lap.  A smile broke through the embarrassment as he looked up and said, “I’ve got it.  It’s here, I found it.”

Tim laid the magazine on the table for the other two to see.  “This is the closest Fuji got to matter-energy conversion.  A device that uses slightly radioactive waves to change the molecular structure of whatever it hits.  This has the power to melt a person, or disintegrate metal.  What better way to test Oshimaida’s metallurgical process than with a weapon that can disintegrate metal?  This has to be it, the Radium Gun.”

Dick read over Tim’s shoulder, seeing the possibilities in such a weapon.  No bank vault would be secure, no police could stand against it.  The only way the military could attack it would be with an airstrike.  It could stop a tank before the driver knew anything was wrong.  And it could be sold to the highest bidder, making any unknown willing to pay into a major world threat overnight.  _Daka doesn’t even have to use it himself to throw the world out of balance.  He can sit back and sell off his creation, and watch the world burn._

**A/N: So, a couple things from this chapter.  When I mentioned mind control using radio waves, that was how the original Daka controlled his servants in the original serial.  The Radium Gun is also from the original serial, and I think my incarnation of it will see more use than the original did.  That is just going to depend on how fun it is to write when I get to it.  Yes, Pamela Anderson’s first centerfold was in 1990 (I just looked up the date, not the picture, although I’m not opposed to that).  As for the medical piece of this chapter: everything was made up by me in what would sound like an almost plausible method for medical care.  As I repeatedly have to tell the people I work with, I’m not a doctor.  I also have never had a cast, so I don’t know if I got the removal right.  The only time I have broken a bone, I had to use one of those walking boots.  Pretty uncomfortable, but at least I could take it off every night and wash my leg.**

**I originally said that I thought this story could come in around 15-16 chapters.  I am now thinking it will probably be closer to 20-25.  I’m having a good time writing it, and I want to get as much out of it as I can.**

**Thanks everyone, for sticking with me, and for all the kind reviews I have received.  It makes it worthwhile to continue when I know my work is being appreciated by someone other than myself.**


	11. 11

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 11

 

“Pennyworth, what do I have to do to get better faster?”

Alfred wasn’t quite sure he had heard correctly when Damian spoke softly from the passenger seat.  “My boy, you need to only go as fast as your body will allow.  Going as fast as your mind wants to will only get you injured again.”

Damian looked resolutely out of the side window as they pulled onto the manor driveway.  He hated asking for help, but he knew that Alfred would be the person most likely to offer the needed assistance without making a production about it.  “…I may need help with that, Pennyworth,” Damian whispered, just loud enough to be heard by the butler.

“I believe Master Dick would be more than willing to assist you, Young Sir.”

“…And baby me along the way.  You, on the other hand, would push me to do what needed to be done.”  Damian took a deep breath before glancing up at the butler, a sincere look in his eyes, “…Please?”

That one word shocked Alfred so much that he almost drove off the path.  _He is serious about this, and he asked politely, what choice do I have now,_ Alfred thought.  “Are you quite sure, Master Damian?  I can be quite the taskmaster.”

Damian smiled, “I would like to be back to my role as Robin before my next birthday, but before the end of the month would be preferable; Challenge accepted.”

Alfred gave a mock-heavy sigh with a smile.  “Very well, Master Damian.  Let me retrieve your crutch from the stairs.  I dare say you will be needing it very soon.”  The butler walked off.

Damian swung his legs out of the car, his left leg still feeling unnaturally light without the heavy cast.  He took a look at the limb in natural light for the first time, and started in shock and disgust.  There was no better way to describe it; his leg was yellow.  Not a complementary yellow to his cape, but a sickly, pale yellow that threatened to turn his stomach.  _At least I can’t smell it when it’s outside of the car_ , Damian thought.

Damian noticed several discolored marks that he couldn’t quite place.  At first he thought they were just dirt left over from the cast.  He rubbed one and noticed a bit of raw skin, slightly pink.  Thinking back, he suddenly realized what they had to be.  _Todd gave me the pencil to scratch under the cast, I must have cut myself with the ferrule._

As Alfred approached with the crutch, Damian counted no less than eight marks that he could attribute to the pencil.  _At least I got the pencil back,_ Damian smirked to himself as he remembered one itch in particular that must have been almost at his ankle.  He had lost his grip on the writing implement as he tried to reach the particularly deep itch.  He had then spent the next hour lying on his back on the hospital bed with his leg pointed straight up in the air, praying that he could find some angle to move his leg in the restrictive construct to allow the pencil to work its way out of the cast.  When it finally did agree to come out, Damian had promptly thrown the pencil out and determined he could live with any future itches.  Fortunately, when Batman snuck in a book of crossword puzzles in his utility belt the next day, the trash had already been emptied, and Damian could pretend that the writing implement had just disappeared.  He was far warier, and more cautious, when Batman brought him a pen from the nurse’s station in order to complete his time-wasting activity book.

Alfred didn’t quite understand the smile that was evident on the boy’s face as he handed over the crutch.  It wasn’t one of thanks or gratitude, those had rarely ever alighted on the boy’s features, but more one found during a cherished reminiscence.  _Let’s see if he is truly ready for his ‘challenge,’_ Alfred thought.

Damian positioned his crutch, then held out his hand for Alfred to help him out of the low-slung car.  Alfred glanced at the hand as he turned away and headed back to the manor.  He tossed over his shoulder, “I think I shall run your bath, Young Sir.  Please don’t be too long, I would hate for it to get cold before you get a chance to use it.”

Damian sputtered as the butler disappeared into the house.  _…But, but…He’s the butler.  He’s supposed to buttle.  He could have at least helped me out of the car…_ Then Damian remembered ‘Are you sure?  I can be quite the taskmaster.’

Damian levered himself out of the car with a grimace and a smirk.  _Well played, Pennyworth.  I see I made the right choice_ , the boy thought.

At the point when Alfred thought he may have been too abrupt in his change to physical therapist taskmaster, Damian came hobbling into his bedroom.  Damian sank gratefully onto his bed and wiped a sheen of perspiration from his forehead.  Noticing the butler standing at the door to his bathroom, Damian began undressing.  Never raised with any concerns for modesty, the boy soon heaved himself back to standing and made for the bathroom door.  He stopped next to the butler, neither one looking at the other, and said, “Thank you, Pennyworth, for doing exactly what I asked of you.  However, I will require your assistance with the bath.  I would like to avoid any more casts in the near future.”

Damian walked ahead into the bathroom and stood next to the tub.  The butler set the crutch aside and lifted the boy, surprising Damian as the seemingly frail old man lifted him as easily as Dick would and set him gently in the warm water, careful not to let him drop onto his weakened leg.  Damian consented to allow Alfred to scrub the withered leg, assuming the experienced butler could get it far cleaner than he could himself.

Once each had finished their part of the cleaning, Alfred the leg and Damian everything else, Alfred drained the tub and refilled it with clean, hot water.  Damian had been ready to get out, and just looked at the man in askance.

“Just relax, my boy.  You are not required to be anywhere for quite some time.  In fact, I believe the rest of the household is unaware of our presence.  Take some time to relax and rest.  The hot water should help to soothe your aching muscles.  Believe me, dear boy, your muscles will be aching as you rebuild your leg.  I am a taskmaster, and I expect you to work, but it will be nothing you can’t handle.  You are up to the task, dear boy.  If the hot water helps, I’m sure Master Dick can be convinced to join you in the spa tonight.  It hasn’t been used in a while, but I’m sure it is in perfect working order.  Do you require anything before I take my leave?” Alfred asked his charge.

Starting to relax already, Damian looked up, startled, and remembered the car, “Wait, you’re just going to leave me here?”

Smiling, Alfred said, “For now, Young Master, but I will be back once you have had some time to relax a bit.  A book, perhaps?”

“No, Pennyworth, but…Thank you.”  The butler stayed just long enough to watch as Damian leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed contentedly.

When Alfred passed by to check on him not five minutes later, Damian was fast asleep.

_Meanwhile…_

“Are you kidding me, Timmy?  This guy’s going to build something he found in a thirty year old issue of Popular Mechanics, and terrorize the world with it?” Dick asked, incredulous at the proposed plan.

“Yes and no.  Yes, I believe that he is going to build this device.  No, he didn’t find it in a magazine.  Remember, this is one of Masahito Fuji’s designs.  For all we know, Daka could have helped him design it, and just let Fuji put his name on it.”  There was no doubt in Tim’s mind that this was going to be the end result of all the thefts.

Dick closed his eyes as he massaged his temples, trying to wrap his head around the implications of the plan.  “Okay, assuming that this is his end goal, what materials is he missing?”

Tim looked over the schematic drawings, “Um…I don’t see anything he’s missing, except for some minor electrical components.  Those are cheap enough and common enough that they could have just bought them at any Radio Shack and not aroused any suspicion, or just pulled them out of some of the electronics they stole.”

Dick was silent for a moment as he thought, then his eyes snapped open.  “Radio Shack?  He has the components already.  He has for months.”

“What?  How do you know?”  Tim shot to his feet as he asked.

“Uncle Clark sent this a month ago.  He thought you might get a kick out of it.  Eight of the remaining seventeen Radio Shacks in Metropolis are set to close in, um…actually, they closed a little over a week ago.  All eight were robbed during their going out of business sales.  The only things taken were various electrical components.  It made news because, while thousands of dollars’ worth of merchandise was stolen, not one item by itself cost more than five dollars.  Oh God.  With that much stolen, there’s no way we can rule out mass production at this point.”

Tim had a panicked look in his eye as he said, “This is bad, Dick.  We’ve got to find these guys.  Like, now!”

Barbara, mostly ignored by the two men in the cave, had been quietly reading the article for the past several minutes.  “Guys, maybe we don’t have to worry just yet.  It says here that there is a caution written into the original plans: ‘…While this creation shows great promise, it can be nothing more than a technical exercise.  In order to keep the radioactive elements contained, an extremely dense metallic case is required for protection.  Currently, no such material exists outside of the realm of science fiction that would allow this device to be portable in anything smaller than a truck-mounted application.’”

Tim shuffled over and took the magazine from Barbara.  “I would love to agree with you, Barbara, but you are forgetting several important things.  First, this issue came out in 1984.  Daka has had thirty years to perfect Oshimaida’s metallurgy process.  If he’s to the point where he’s mass producing ammunition, making a tube to these specs would be no problem.  Second, the radioactive components Daka has chosen, while safer than the Uranium described in the article, are no less potent.  Since they are safer, even a modern titanium casing would be sufficient for the purpose, as long as it was strategically lead-lined.  Third, who is to say that Daka _isn’t_ planning on making a truck-mounted version?  Just because a handheld version would be better for discretion, that is no reason to believe that Daka wants to be discreet.  I’m sorry, guys, but I think Daka can start mass producing the Radium Gun at any time.”  Tim sat back down, deflated, as one thought flashed across all their minds: They have no clue about where to find the mad genius.

As they sat contemplating the possibilities of the near future, the Batphone began ringing.  His pulse racing, Dick rose and hustled over to the computer to answer the phone.  “Batman here.”

A worn, weary, but welcome and familiar voice sounded through the receiver, “Batman?  Is it really you?”

Dick’s smile didn’t resonate in his voice, “Yes, Commissioner.  I was planning to come see you tonight to let you know that Gotham will soon be put back in order.  I also have another announcement, but that can wait until I see you tonight.”

Commissioner Gordon’s voice took a slightly relieved timbre.  “Well, the city sure has missed you, Batman.  Batgirl said you had been injured, but it must have been more serious than that to keep you out of action this long.”

“…You called for a reason, Commissioner?”

“Yes, Batman.  I have a baffling crime that I would like you to investigate.  The Gotham City Teacher’s Federal Credit Union was just robbed.  Initial report says that the door to the vault was…melted off.”

Dick nearly dropped the phone at the short description.  “I’m sorry, could…could you…repeat that, Commissioner?”

“I said the vault door was melted off.  I know how it sounds.  My investigators have no clue how a three ton slab of steel turned into a pool of silver liquid coating the floor of the vault room.  I’m on my way there now, can you meet me there?”

“It’s a bit early in the day for Batman, Commissioner.  I can be there tonight.”

“No sooner, Batman?  This has all the markings of something sinister in the making.”

Dick thought for a long moment before responding, “It’s a dangerous proposition, Commissioner Gordon, but Red Robin and I will be there in about an hour.”

With a hint of a chuckle in his voice, Commissioner Gordon asked, “ _Red_ Robin?  Why not regular Robin?  Is the Boy Wonder grounded?  Summer school?”

“Commissioner, I don’t appreciate jokes about this.”  His voice grew a hint of steel that would have made Bruce proud.  It also earned him a sharp look from Barbara.  “Robin was injured in the same explosion as I was.  His injuries were more…severe…than mine.  He requires more time to rehabilitate.  I plan on giving him all the time he needs to recover.  I assure you, he is coming along nicely, and he just needs more time before he is field-ready again.”

Humbled, the Commissioner made his apologies.  “I’m sorry, Batman.  I honestly had no idea that Robin was injured as well.”

“I didn’t exactly want it known, Commissioner.  One hour.”  Dick hung up the Batphone and turned around to find that Barbara had approached the computer and was glaring at Dick.  Before she could open her mouth, Dick whispered, “We didn’t tell him that Robin was injured in the explosion as well.  He made an off-hand comment that didn’t sit too well with me.  I explained, and he apologized.”

Barbara winced.  _How could we have not told Dad that Robin was injured, as well?_   She nodded at the man as Dick walked away, approaching Tim.

“Suit up, Timmy, we have an appointment to keep.”

Checking his watch, Tim paled, “Are you kidding me?  It’s only a quarter to four; the sun is still up.”

“Normally I would agree with you, but your technical exercise just took a turn for the practical.  Gotham City Teacher’s Federal Credit Union was just robbed.  Initial report states that the door to the vault was melted off.  Barbara, while we’re getting ready, I want you to put copies of everything we have on Daka and the investigation, all our notes, everything up to and including the Popular Mechanics article and the bank job, on a flash drive for your father.  Maybe, if we can get him up to speed quickly enough, we can get some extra help in investigating this.  Then, get the Oracle network up and tracking this.  I have a sinking feeling that this wasn’t a heist.”

“What do you mean, ‘not a heist’?”  Barbara’s face began to pale to match Tim’s.

“I think this was just an advertisement, a proof of concept for potential buyers, and the six o’clock news is going to be the infomercial.”  Dick sounded grim as he gave his prediction.

“Going somewhere, Master Dick?”  Unseen by the others, Alfred had entered the cave.

“Yes, Alfred.  I think Daka has just made his first real move.  We have to get on this; special request from the Commissioner.”

Alfred made a show of checking his watch, knowing exactly what time it was before looking down.  “…And, you feel comfortable with this…matinee?”

Dick sighed, “No, Alfred, I don’t, but we can’t wait on this.  The implications are too grave for the city if we wait.”  Dick realized who he was talking to and stopped, turned, and hustled up to the butler.  “Alfred, you’re back!  Is Damian alright?  How did it go?”

Smiling, Alfred said, “The young master performed admirably, as we all expected would be the case.  He is upstairs, bathing, in the hopes of washing the last remnants of the cast off.”

Dick smiled, “Was the smell bad?”

“As far as most casts go, no.  However, for someone who was unprepared for such an odor, I’m afraid he was quite disquieted by the experience.  All will be righted soon, I have no doubt.”

Dick called out, “Timmy, take five.  Alfred and Damian are back, I’m going to go check in on him.”

Tim emerged from the locker room, wearing Red Robin pants and his t-shirt, and said, “Should I call the Commissioner?  Tell him we’re not coming?”

Dick thought for a second before Alfred answered for him.  “No, you must go investigate this lead.  I’m quite sure Master Damian will sleep for quite a while after his bath.”  He didn’t want to tell Dick just how long they had actually been home, and that Damian was already asleep in his tub.  “Please, Master Dick.  The sooner you go, the sooner you can get back.  You must be home for dinner tonight, we have a guest coming.  Dr. Thompkins will be joining us tonight.”

Walking quickly into the locker room, Dick said over his shoulder, “I want a full update when we get back.  Hopefully we won’t be too long.”

As his boys disappeared, Alfred said to himself, “I shall try to hold dinner until you are back.”

An hour later, the Batmobile pulled up outside of the Credit Union building, the sun still shining high in the sky.  Batman’s finger hovered over the canopy open button, hesitating as he thought of all the things that could go wrong with a daytime appearance.  Red Robin, equally wary of the daytime expedition, stared out of the tinted canopy at the curious bystanders starting to gather around the vehicle of the night.

“This doesn’t feel right, Batman.”

“Tell me about it, Red.  Crap, let’s just get this over with.”  Batman pushed the button, releasing the canopy to silently retract on its glides.  Several bystanders backed up as the alternate Dynamic Duo exited the vehicle and made their way to the police-tape surrounded building.

The Caped Crusader approached the Police Commissioner, who gave a genuine smile at the sight of the black-clad vigilante.  “Batman, am I glad to see you.  Of course, I’m glad to see you too, Red Robin.  Come, let’s get you out of the sun.  Who knows, you might melt or burst into flames, or something.”

Ignoring the joke, Batman turned towards the building.  “…The vault, Commissioner?”

A little cowed, but mostly readjusting to the manners of the man, Gordon said, “Of course.  This way, Batman.”

As they walked, Gordon said, “I’m sorry about Robin.  I wish I had known sooner the he was worse off than you were.”

“Thank you.”  Batman almost let Dick through to speak to the man as he said, “He’s a tough bird; he’ll make a full recovery.”

Jim Gordon gave a small smile that was unseen by the vigilantes following him, through the building.  “Good.  I wish there was something I could do for him.”

Red Robin had to hold back a laugh, but couldn’t quite hold his tongue, “Like what, send flowers?  I have yet to see a ‘get well’ card that reads ‘sorry you got blown up.’”

Batman didn’t look over as he reached up and smacked the back of Red Robin’s head.  “I didn’t bring you along so you could make jokes at Da… _Robin’s_ expense.  You’re family, no matter how much either of you wants to change that.”

“Batman, I…”  Something approaching a Bruce-level Batglare was leveled at the younger vigilante.  “…Sorry,” Red Robin mumbled.  _Right, still a sore subject for Dick._

Filing away the internal family struggle for later thought, along with the near-slip of Robin’s true name, Commissioner Gordon pointed forward and said, “There it is, or, at least, what’s left of it.”

Even knowing what to expect did not prepare Batman and Red Robin for the actual sight of the vault door.  What had once been an imposing slab of monetary protection was now a pooling, dull silver pile, quickly hardening on the bank floor.  Coming back to his senses first, Batman nudged Red Robin twice before the teen was able to tear his gaze away from the surreal sight.

“Get your samples, quickly.  I want to get back and start looking into this.”  It was said more for the Commissioner’s benefit.  Batman thought it would be far more impressive when he presented the older man with the pile of evidence later that night if the Police Chief though he only had a couple hours to work on the case.

Red Robin took a scraper and sample tube from his belt and began taking samples.  Batman took an implement from his belt and began taking in the crime scene.

A fat detective in a tacky trench coat and fedora approached the Caped Crusader from behind, munching on a candy bar.  “Is that some sort of fancy “Bat-Scanner” Batman?” The detective asked sarcastically.

Rolling his eyes under his cowl and sighing at the interruption, Batman responded without looking back at the corpulent cop.  “No, Detective Bullock, it’s a digital camera.  Is it okay with you if I use something this normal?”

“No, I just…”

Whirling around, Batman hit the man with a solid glare, shutting his mouth.  “Not all our tools and gadgets are strange, sci-fi contraptions, you know.  What do you think powers the Batmobile?  Nuclear batteries?  It’s just your standard, if heavily tuned and modified, V-8.  Most of my gear is in use by members of our military as we speak.  No matter what you may think, I’m not some freak of nature, just a man trying to do _your_ job.  So why don’t you go try to do your part, so I can finish mine.”

Batman hadn’t meant to light into the man as hard as he had, but there was too much tension building up in the vigilante, it had to be released before he exploded and did something he would regret, especially in a room full of cops.

As Bullock walked away, muttering, Gordon approached the cowled man.  “You were a bit hard on the man, weren’t you?  He may be annoying, but he is one of my best detectives.”

“He’s a pain in the ass, Commissioner, has been for a long time now.  I’m not saying get rid of him, but maybe it’s time he gets in line a bit.”  Batman was trying every calming technique he knew to keep a level voice.

The man chuckled, “Maybe you’re right, Batman.”

Red Robin approached and said, “I have my samples.  Anything else you think we need?”

“Yes, I want to take a look at the footprints in the metal.”

Looking back at the rapidly hardening material, Red Robin said, “There are a lot of them.  I think most of them are actually from the police.  That might not tell us much.”

“Either way, I want to be thorough.  And, analyzing the prints will give Robin something to do.  You know he probably feels bad that we are basically solving this without him.  Remind me to…never mind.”  Batman took a few steps away and activated his radio, “Oracle, come in.”

Her voice filtered through the speaker, “Go ahead, Batman.”

Speaking a bit quieter in order to not be overheard, he said, “Could you make another copy of the case notes?”

A hint of a smile was in the voice that answered, “Did you lose the one I gave you earlier already?”

Batman smirked at the disembodied voice, glad he had turned his back on the rest of the room, “No, I want to give it to Robin.  Let’s get another set of eyes looking over everything, make sure he agrees with where the investigation is going.”  Batman dropped his voice to a whisper, “I think he’s feeling a bit left out.  He hasn’t been in the cave much lately.”

“Sure, Batman, I’ll make him a copy.  I assume you want to give it to him yourself?”

“You assume correctly.  We are almost done here; we should be back soon.”  Batman broke the connection.

Turning back to the room, Batman approached the Commissioner, “Commissioner, I should have something for you tonight.  Do me a favor: light the signal tonight.  I assure you, it will not go unanswered.  Eleven o’clock, your office.  Let’s go, Red Robin, we’re done here for now.”

The Caped Vigilantes swept out of the building, entered the Batmobile, and left the scene.  As they drove off, Batman put the car in self-diagnostic mode as the vehicle headed in the opposite direction of the cave.

Red Robin asked, “Where are we going?  We need to get home before Alfred has a cow for us being late for dinner.”

Batman growled in a low voice, causing Red Robin to lean closer in order to hear, “The car was sitting in broad daylight in public for almost an hour.  I’m not taking it anywhere near home before I run a scan for tracking devices or explosives.  The only thing I’m taking back with us on the outside of this vehicle that’s not supposed to be there is dust and bird crap.”

Red Robin looked down at his hands.  He didn’t even think about tracking devices or explosives.  He had never had reason to think about that before.  At night, on patrol, no one would dare approach a parked Bat-vehicle without a death wish, but during the day, who knows?

“Do you think anyone really put something on the Batmobile?”

Batman shook his head, “A member of the public, no.  However, I wouldn’t put it past the police to try and track the Batmobile.”

Red Robin was shocked at the thought.  After a minute, he said, “Feeling a bit guilty about chewing out Bullock?  Or paranoid?”

Batman smirked, “He would be the most likely candidate, wouldn’t he?”  The car beeped once and the display on the center console lit up green.  “Well, it looks like we got away with it this time, scan shows clear.  I’m going to make you a promise right now: no more daytime patrols.  That was too stressful for me.”

Red Robin returned the smirk, “Really?  I couldn’t tell by the way you nearly made Bullock into two regular sized detectives, instead of one super-sized one.”

Batman set the autopilot for a circuitous route around the city towards the cave, hoping to lose any tails the conspicuous vehicle may pick up.  He tried to keep the route somewhat direct, in order to only have to brave a little of Alfred’s wrath.  The butler would understand and accept them taking extra precautions in order to preserve their safety and anonymity.  In fact, he would be quite disappointed if they failed to take extra care during their unusually timed expedition.

An hour and a half after leaving the bank, and just as the last light of day fled the heavens over Gotham, the Batmobile arrived back at the cave.  Batman and Red Robin had discussed their findings about the bank and come up with a disturbing thought.  It couldn’t be confirmed until the full report from the robbery was available, but both Batman and Red Robin were quite convinced that nothing had actually been stolen from the vault.  A cursory analysis of the photos of the footprints showed two disturbing revelations.  First, all the prints were footprints.  There were no carts or hand-trucks used in the heist, which would preclude that everything that had left the vault had been carried out by hand.  Second, and this one was harder to tell from the pictures, but they were fairly certain that all of the footprints were of consistent depth.  That meant that everyone who had entered the vault weighed just as much coming out.  Now assuming that bales of money were not thrown out of the melted door to waiting accomplices, Batman was fairly sure that nothing had been carried out of the vault.  Batman’s thoughts of a proof of concept heist were starting to look more likely.

The cave was empty as they made their way to the locker room.  Entering the space, Tim looked at the clock on the wall and hissed, “Oh, Dick.  Alfred is going to skin us alive, it’s almost eight thirty.  We were supposed to be here for dinner with Dr. Thompkins.”

Dick grimaced, “It couldn’t be helped, Timmy.  We had to be careful on our way back.”

The pair changed as quickly as they could and ran up the stairs.  They entered the manor to find Damian sitting in the hallway in his wheelchair, playing on his phone, a shield taken from a nearby decorative suit of armor leaning against one wheel.

Concerned, Dick asked, “Why are you in the chair?  What happened?  You’re not supposed to be using that anymore.”

Not looking at the pair, Damian responded, “Hello, Damian.  We’re so happy that you finally got your cast off.  How are you feeling?  Sorry we haven’t seen you all day, but we had other things to do.  Sorry we missed dinner and disappointed Dr. Thompkins, who was looking forward to seeing us.”

Dick winced, “She left already?  Alfred knew where we were, and I spoke to Barbara while we were out.”

Tim winced just as hard, “How mad is he?”

Damian levered himself up on his crutch, positioned next to the chair.  “Dr. Thompkins left about half an hour ago.  As for how mad Pennyworth is, maybe you should take that when you see him.”  Damian pointed at the shield as he left the two in the hallway.

Dick and Tim looked at each other, each wondering just how screwed they were.  Sighing heavily, Dick said, “Well, no point putting it off.”

Shaking his head, Tim said, “Right, let’s get this over with.  Um…Do you think we should really take the shield?”

Dick considered it, “I don’t think we will actually need it, but it might provide a way to break the tension.”

Tim stood tall, “If you want to cower behind a shield for comic effect, go ahead.  Given what we found out today, I’m willing to take one for the team, now that the case is starting to come together a bit more quickly.  I’m willing to face our punishment if it at least gets me some leftovers, I’m hungry.”  Tim strode towards the kitchen with his head held high, yet ever vigilant should he actually need to duck flying kitchen implements.

Dick watched him go, and waited until Tim was at the end of the hall before calling to his younger brother, “We who are about to die, salute you.”

Tim turned and smiled at his oldest brother as the man approached and put an arm around his shoulder.

Their gallows humor over, both entered the kitchen silently.  Alfred stood at the sink, washing the dishes from dinner.  He stiffened infinitesimally, but enough for the Bat-trained men to notice.  No noise had been made at their approach, lending more credence to Dick’s recurring belief in the older man’s capacity for ESP.  They waited at the door for the man to finish his task, knowing that interrupting him would just increase his anger at their rudeness and impropriety.  It also, Dick knew, allowed Alfred time to cool his temper, which could rival Bruce’s when necessary.

Finishing the dishes, Alfred turned, drying his hands on a towel.  He looked appraisingly at the two men before him, and noticed with a hidden smile when they both flinched at Alfred’s “Butler-Glare.”  “Well, gentlemen.  I asked you to do one thing, and you did not.  Needless to say, Dr. Thompkins was rather disappointed that neither of you could be here for her visit.”

Dick started, “Alfred, I…”

Alfred silenced him with a glance, “I am not done yet.  While the good doctor understood where you were, and why you had to go, your brother did not.  I am disappointed that you missed dinner.  I am incensed that you have kept your brother out of the loop of an investigation that is so intricately tied to his, and your own, health.”

“…But, we haven’t kept him out, Alfred.  I want his help.  In fact…”Dick was again interrupted by the butler’s calm voice.

“You told him that it might be for the best if he stayed out of the cave, and again today, you told him to leave the cave without even allowing him to offer to help.”

Dick looked shocked, “Is that what he told you?  Alfred, I told him to leave the cave today because you were taking him to get his cast off.  And, he did offer to help, but there was no time for him to start anything before his appointment.”

Alfred’s argument started to show some cracks, “Well, what about the other utterance?”

Dick sighed, “I told him that the day after he came home from the hospital because he was having such a hard time getting around.  I didn’t want him to risk hurting himself getting in and out of the cave.  It had nothing to do with not wanting his help.”

“Did you, perchance, make that clear to him?  You know he has not been himself since he returned from the hospital.”  Alfred felt his anger waning.

“I…Well, no.  I…I didn’t think it was necessary.  I was just looking out for him.”  Dick looked down, suddenly interested in the pattern in the tile as he tried to keep his tears from falling.  _How did I not check in on him more?  Why didn’t he tell me he was feeling left out?  This could have been prevented; it’s all my fault if he is really feeling this way._

Feeling that nothing would be thrown at this point, Tim put a hand on Dick’s shoulder as he addressed Alfred.  “Alfred, is Barbara still here?”

Surprised at the change in direction of the conversation, Alfred regarded the younger man, “No, Master Timothy.  She left about two hours ago, before dinner.  She said she was meeting her father for dinner.”

“So, you didn’t have a chance to talk to her much after we left?”  Tim hoped to salvage the situation for Dick.

Dick looked up as he saw where Tim was headed with his line of questioning, but let him continue.  “Alfred, I can prove that we want Damian’s help.  While we were out, Dick called Barbara and asked her to put all our case notes on a thumb drive.”

The butler nodded, “Yes, I heard that part.  You wanted to turn it over to Commissioner Gordon.”

“Yes, but Dick asked for another copy to give to Damian.  We both want his opinion on where the case is going.  We also want to make sure we haven’t missed anything.  Now, why would Dick do that if he wanted to keep Damian out of it?”

“Well, I suppose you wouldn’t.  Better late than never, I guess.  I apologize for such a greeting as I gave you.  I should be ashamed; Master Damian asked me not to say anything, but I could not believe that he knew so little of what was going on, I felt I had to say something.”  The butler began gravitating towards the refrigerator to get out the leftovers for their dinner.  “I am, however, still disappointed that you missed dinner.  I trust your investigation turned out well?”

Dick turned to his brother, “Tim, why don’t you let Alfred in on where we think everything’s going.  I have a little bat to placate.”  Dick ran back to the cave as Tim let the older man in on their findings of the afternoon.  He retrieved the thumb drive, with Barbara’s note stating that everything was ready on the drive for Damian.  Returning to the manor, Dick went back to the kitchen to show Alfred the note.

Nothing was said as Dick handed over the note.  Alfred read to himself: _Dick—I copied everything you asked onto the drive.  I also included a program so Damian can look at it on his laptop without leaving a digital trail, instead of going down to the cave to view everything.  I’m going to meet dad for dinner, but there is also a link to the Oracle network included so Damian can track anything that happens before I get back tomorrow.  I hope this works for you.  I know you wanted to get his help, so maybe he can do some tracking work for us and we can get a new perspective on the evidence.  See you tomorrow afternoon.—Barbara._

Looking up, Alfred handed back the note, “I’m still upset that you missed dinner when you were asked to make an appearance.  Are you planning on showing the note to Master Damian?”

Dick smiled, “Absolutely.  Did Tim get to why we were late yet?”

“Yes, and I appreciate your caution.  Master Damian will, as well.  He just won’t show it.”

“I know.  Tim, save a little of that for me, I want a bite before we go out again.”

Tim, who had been shoveling food into his mouth, looked up from his plate and shook his head.  Swallowing hard, Tim said, “Nope, it’s too good.  You want to eat, you need to hurry up.”

Smiling again, Dick ran up the stairs two at a time.  Damian’s door was closed as Dick approached and knocked.

“What?”

Opening the door, Dick stuck his head inside the room, but didn’t see the boy.  “Damian?  Where are you?”

“What do you want, Grayson?”

Entering the room, Dick walked around the bed in the direction of the voice.  On the opposite side of the bed, Damian was on the floor doing pushups, his left leg crossed on top of his right to not put weight on it.

“Damian?”

Not stopping, Damian explained, “I gained nineteen pounds while stuck in that damn wheelchair.  I need to get rid of some of it.  Maybe it will help to build up my leg faster if I don’t have so much weight to put on it.”  Damian lowered his voice, saying what he wanted to say, but hoping that Dick would miss it, “And since it seems like I have to earn my way back into the cave, I need to start now.”

Hearing every word, Dick knew he had screwed up somewhere, “Damian, I…”

The boy stopped, sat up, and glared at Dick, “You told me you didn’t want me in the cave.  It’s not my fault I got hurt.  I did everything I could; everything you asked of me.  What else could I have done?  What did I do wrong?”

Dick reached over and picked up the boy, setting him on the bed before continuing.  “D, I’m sorry.  I never meant for you to feel that way.  I didn’t say I didn’t want you in the cave, I said it would be easier if you didn’t come down, but what I meant was that it would be easier on you physically if you didn’t have to come down.  I wanted you to have a chance to heal.  I didn’t want you to feel left out, or that we were excluding you.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  I thought you understood what I meant.  I never thought that, when you stopped coming down to the cave, you were thinking that I didn’t want you there.”

Looking away, Damian said, “Well, I did.  This morning just seemed to…solidify that for me.”

“We all missed you down there.  It wasn’t the same without you.”

Damian snorted, “Sure, I bet you were able to get a lot of work done, without my distraction.”

Now Dick looked away, “Well, we did, but it wasn’t because you weren’t there.  I worked as hard as I could in order to find the people who hurt you.  No one blows up my Little D and gets away with it.”

Damian gave an involuntary snort of laughter at that, quickly trying to cover it with a cough, but Dick caught it with a grin.  “I asked Pennyworth not to say anything.”

Dick placed a hand on Damian’s withered knee, immediately able to see the size difference.  “I’m glad he did.  Alfred’s just looking out for you.  Your body is mending, now it’s time to work on your mind.”  _And your heart._

Damian cocked his head, causing a pang in Dick’s heart at the familiar gesture, “What do you mean?”

Dick handed over the flash drive and the note and let Damian inspect both.  After reading it twice, Damian looked up, “So, you weren’t trying to exclude me, after all?”

“No, Little D.  In fact, I have two very important tasks for you now.  First, you need to get yourself up to speed.  Everything we have is on that drive.  I want you to learn it all and tell me what you think their next move will be.  Tim, Barbara, and I have a theory.  I want you to look over everything and see what theory you come up with.  If you come up with our same theory, then we will know we are on the right path.”

Damian asked, “What’s your theory?”

Dick shook his head, “Now, I can’t tell you that, it’ll taint the evidence and your train of thought.  I want to see where the evidence leads you.  That drive has everything from when we first started tracking the robberies up until our investigation this afternoon.  You don’t have to read it all tonight, in fact, you can’t read it all tonight, because of the second important thing I need you to do.  Barbara went home; she won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.  Tim and I are going back out tonight.  We have to talk to the Commissioner and put a few crooks in jail.  I need you on the radio while we’re out.  I can talk Alfred into letting you stay up past bedtime for this.”

Damian looked disappointed, “Radio duty?  You mean the duty given to those who can’t work in the field and those deemed too fragile for night work?”

“Yes, radio duty.  Besides, unless you have forgotten, you currently _are_ too fragile to work in the field, unless that stick that used to be your leg is a lot stronger than it looks.  I need you on the radio tonight because we are very close to cracking this case wide open.  Barbara has a couple high level searches running right now on the Oracle network.  We need to be informed the second those searches come up with something.  Barbara left a key on the drive that gives you access to her full network, which should show just how much a part of the team you are.  I don’t even have access to her network.”

“Well, that’s probably because you would use it to hack into the server that controls the messages on the side of the Goodyear blimp, and use it to send her love letters.”  Dick was overjoyed to hear Damian make a comment that wasn’t tinged with sadness at his thought of being left out.

Dick looked at the boy thoughtfully, “My birthday is coming up in a few months.  If you wanted to do that for me, I would consider that a great present.”

Damian just shook his head, “Grayson, you are truly demented.  No wonder she continues to refuse your advances.”

They sat for a minute, Dick squeezing Damian’s knee as the boy read the note again.  “Are we good now?”

Damian sighed, “I guess so.”

Dick stood up, “Good.  Now, you have some reading to do, and I need to get back to the kitchen before Timmy eats all the leftovers.”  Dick looked at his watch as he walked into the hall.  “I expect you in the cave and at the radio before we leave at nine forty-five.  You have thirty-eight minutes.  Make me proud, Baby Bat.”  Dick walked towards the stairs as Damian pulled out his laptop and plugged in the flash drive.  Finding everything listed chronologically, Damian dove into the first file, determined to get through as much as he could in the next twenty minutes, before he had to make his way down to the cave.

Dick re-entered the kitchen to find a plate waiting at his normal spot.  Alfred sat in the corner, drinking a cup of tea.  As he dug in to the delicious meal, Dick asked, “Where’s Timmy?”

“Master Timothy is attempting to put the shield back on the suit of armor before I notice it is missing.”

Dick sputtered a laugh, trying not to choke on the spaghetti, “He told you about Little D’s warning to us, then?”

“He did indeed, although I already knew.  Remember, there is very little that goes on in this house that I don’t know about.  Has Master Damian been put right again, sir?”

Dick thought about what Alfred said.  _I wonder if he really knows about the magazine._   “We’re getting there, but I think we made a big swing in that direction today.  By the way, Damian’s working the radio tonight.  I told him he could stay until we got back from patrol.  I know, he needs his rest, but he also has a lot of studying to do to get caught up.”

Alfred sighed, “He will be allowed, just this once.  He may wish he had the extra rest tomorrow, when I start his physical therapy.”

Dick winced, remembering his own encounters with the butler’s physical therapy regimen.  “He will indeed.  Alfred, I don’t say this nearly enough, but thank you.  We really would be lost without you.”

Bowing his head, Alfred replied, “It is my pleasure, Master Dick.”

Tim came into the kitchen, “Hey, Dick.  We need to leave soon if we want to put some criminals behind bars before we go see the Commissioner.”

Shoving another bite into his mouth, Dick checked his watch again.  “I told Damian nine forty-five.  He will be manning the radio for us tonight, since Barbara is out.  We still have a few minutes.”

“Sounds good, Brother,” Tim said, stealing a piece of garlic bread off of Dick’s plate.

“Hey!  Alfred, Timmy’s being mean to me!”  Dick whined to the butler.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

Alfred stood up, barely keeping a smile off his face at the familiar banter, “Boys, boys.  Behave yourselves, or I will be forced to send you both to bed with no patrol and no dessert.”

“Yes, Alfred,” they both intoned together, smiles plastering all three faces.

At the appointed time, the three men trooped down to the cave, spirits much higher than the last time the cave had been emptied.  They were surprised to find Damian already sitting at the computer, a headset covering his ears as he watched a video file from the flash drive, his laptop sitting on the main computer console.  Not wanting to bother him, Dick and Tim entered the locker room, pulling on the same suits they had shed a little over an hour previous.

When they exited the locker room five minutes later, Damian had moved and was sitting on the hood of the Batmobile.  Dick approached, cowl in hand.

“You seem to be getting around pretty well for just getting the cast off about nine hours ago.  Making progress on the case file?”

Damian nodded, “Genetic engineering will do that.  Yes, I’m just past the explosion.  I don’t think I really needed to see Drake’s recording of them finding us, but the rest of the warehouse was interesting.  No hits on the Oracle network yet.”

Dick nodded, putting on the cowl and lifting the boy off the hood of the car, “Good.  We are meeting with the Commissioner at eleven.  I should tell you that he was quite upset to hear that you had been injured in the explosion as well.  I’ll activate the cowl link when we get there.  You remember how to do radio duty; make sure you call out any good leads for us.  Our focus tonight is cleaning the streets.  We need to respond to as many crimes as possible tonight in order for the word to get out that Batman is back.  Call it out as it comes in, and try to line things up in a good order, so we are not running from one side of town to the other.”

Damian nodded, looking deep into the eye lenses of the cowl.  “I remember how to set up a patrol, Batman.”  Damian hobbled a step away as Batman got into the Batmobile, Red Robin sweeping towards the other side of the car.  “Be safe out there,” Damian whispered as Batman closed the canopy.  A nod in his direction told him that he was heard.

One hour and four arrests later, Batman and Red Robin landed on the roof of the police headquarters building to find Commissioner Gordon standing next to the lit Batsignal, drinking a cup of coffee.  The older man checked his watch before addressing the vigilantes.  “You’re ten minutes early, Batman.”

The man under the cowl growled, “I didn’t think you would mind.  Thanks for sending up my calling card.  I think it’s helping tonight.”

“It must be.  I lit it after we got your first call.  Do you want me to leave it on all night, or are we good with turning it off now?”

Batman and Red Robin looked at each other and nodded, “I think we can turn it off now.  Anyone who didn’t see it and still feels like committing a crime tonight will just have to meet the real Batman instead.”

The man nodded, taking another sip, “Well, let’s go inside so you can make your big announcement.”

Batman activated the cowl camera and allowed Commissioner Gordon and Red Robin to precede him into the building.  Touching his radio, Batman said, “Robin, are you getting the feed?”

The Boy Wonder’s voice came through instantly, “Yes, Batman, good signal.  Any special reason you want me to see your conference with the Commissioner?”

“Yes, the man might say nice things about you again.  It will do you good to hear them.  Besides, you are looking through the same information I will be giving him in just a second.  You can offer some insight on the best way to tackle it.”

Damian responded, “Okay.  You better catch up before they start wondering what happened to you.”

Batman entered Commissioner Gordon’s office, where the two occupants of the room had clearly been about to go looking for Batman.  “Okay, Batman.  What is this big announcement that has me on overtime tonight?”

Batman reached into his utility belt and pulled out the thumb drive.  Handing it over to the Commissioner, he said, “The man you are looking for is Dr. Tito Daka.  We have been tracking him for months now.  He is the mastermind behind the series of organized thefts in Gotham over the past several months.  Before that, he worked out of Metropolis and upstate New York.  He is indirectly responsible for a rash of crimes dating back years, all leading up to his current plan.  The bank job today was the first use of his new weapon.”

Gordon nearly dropped his coffee cup as the Caped Crusader laid out the situation.  “I always thought those thefts were connected, but I had no idea that there was a bigger plot involved.”  He plugged the drive into his computer and looked at the file titles.  “Wait, Batman.  He stole from the Army?  I’m going to have to bring the Feds in on this.  Are you okay with me giving this to them?”

Red Robin looked nervously at Batman.  Batman said, “That is up to you, Commissioner.  I would appreciate if you took the video files out before handing the rest of the files over.”

The Commissioner looked at the men strangely, “The video files?  What’s wrong with them?”

Batman brought up the warehouse video and pushed play.  Commissioner Gordon watched in disgust as Red Hood and Red Robin sorted through the bodies before finding Batman and Robin.  The man paled as the vigilantes on screen assessed the condition of their extended partners.  The video cut off as the Reds carried the dynamic duo out of the building, Commissioner Gordon looking like he was going to throw up.  He was unable to look at Batman for several minutes; the room remained deathly silent.

“Batman, I want to apologize again for my comment this afternoon about Robin,” the sick-looking man whispered, “That boy went through hell, for you.  I hope you appreciate him as much as you should.  There were several mentions in there of brothers.  You must have the most interesting family reunions, unless the remarks referred to ‘brothers in arms’ or something like that.”

Batman leaned closer to the police chief, “You can see why I would like that recording withheld from the Federal authorities?”

Nodding and regaining some color, the Commissioner said, “Yes, I can.  However, I’m surprised you wanted me to see it.”

“I wanted you to know just how serious a situation this is, and has been.  Now, has there been any updates about the bank job?”

Shaking his head, the Commissioner said, “I don’t think it was a bank job anymore.  The official report declares that there is nothing missing from the vault.”

Nodding, Red Robin spoke up for the first time, “That’s what we were afraid of.  You were right, Batman.”

Commissioner Gordon looked confused, “Right about what?”

In his ear, Robin said, “Yeah, right about what?”

Almost letting a smirk cross his features as the little bat spoke up, Batman said, “Make good use of that research, Commissioner, it came with a large physical toll.  If I am right, we can expect more crimes like the one today, but with far more damage done in the future.  We need to get back to the streets.  The more we can take care of now, the fewer distractions there will be when we finally go after Daka.”

As the vigilantes turned to leave the office, Commissioner Gordon stood, “Wait, Batman!  If you know who he is, why don’t you go after him now?”

Giving each other a long look, Batman let Red Robin answer.  “Because, Commissioner, we may know who he is and what he is doing, but we don’t know where he is.”

 

**A/N: Okay, I lied.  Here is the next chapter.  My muse is being fickle.  I am still trying to write my one-shot, but I had too many ideas for this story.  The next chapter may just be straight crime fighting, but we’ll see what happens when I get around to starting it.  We haven’t heard from our villain in a while, so I will have to come up with something good and sinister for him to throw at our heroes.**

**To those who don’t know, or couldn’t figure it out, the little metal ring around the top of a pencil that holds the eraser on is called a ferrule.**

**When Batman asks Bullock if he thought the Batmobile is powered by nuclear batteries, that was a nod to the 1966 Adam West Batman, where the Batmobile is actually powered by nuclear batteries.**

**I want to thank everyone who has been kind enough to stick with this story, and with me as an author, through all of the many times that I go silent between updates.  It’s not that I don’t want to write, but staring at a computer screen all day at work leaves me drained and less than willing to spend hours staring at another computer screen when I get home at night.  To keep the stories coming in this current situation, I have begun writing out my stories on paper, long hand, during my breaks at work.  The stories are still coming, I just have to have the time to transcribe them, which takes a while, since my penmanship is atrocious.  When you can’t read your own writing, then you know something is wrong.**

**Deluxe Disclaimer: All characters and properties are the property of their respective owners.  Copying or retransmission of this program without the express written consent of the National Football League is strictly prohibited.  (See, this is much better than the standard disclaimer.)**


	12. 12

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 12

_The following takes place two days after Chapter 11_

 

Alfred came running into the cave, eyes wide, and yelled out, “Master Dick!  Master Dick!”

Looking around, Alfred saw no one, until Tim turned around from the computer, startled at the behavior of the normally reserved butler.  Running up to the computer, Alfred panted as he grabbed the back of the chair.

“Alfred, what’s wrong?” Tim hadn’t seen Alfred this upset since Bruce’s funeral.

Alfred gasped, “The news…turn on the news!”

Tim gave the servant a strange look before picking up the remote and asking, “What channel?”

“All of them!” Alfred was almost frantic.

Tim turned on the first local news channel he came across.  The image on the screen caused him to gasp in terror.  A helicopter wide-angle shot was showing a familiar-looking building with an almost perfectly symmetrical circle carved out of the center.  As they watched, a section of the building collapsed inward in a great cloud of dust.

“Dick!  Get out here!  Now!”  Tim shouted at the top of his lungs over his shoulder.

Dick came running from the training area, having heard both calls from the men in the cave.

He approached the computer and placed one hand on Alfred’s shoulder, while placing the other on the back of the high-backed chair.  “What’s going on?”

Both men pointed at the screen, unable to talk.  “What’s that?” Dick asked.

Tim turned the volume up as the news anchor continued talking.  “…We’re back live.  These pictures are coming to you live from Sky Gotham, over Gotham Mercy Hospital, and here is what we know so far.  This…incredible damage…is the result of some form of attack on the hospital.  We have confirmed that this is not the result of a sink hole, as was originally reported.  No one has claimed responsibility for this attack yet.  We are getting a report out of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives that there is no known weapon capable of causing this type of damage.  We are seeing something new here, folks.  So, to recap, Gotham Mercy Hospital has been attacked for an unknown reason.  It was an unprovoked attack, as far as we know.  There are reports of great loss of life and…Oh My God!”

The reporter trailed off as he saw the breaking news.  The remains of the ruined building collapsed in on itself.  A spark from somewhere deep in the building ran across an exposed gas leak, flashing the rubble into flame.  A ball of fire erupted high into the sky, causing the news helicopter to swerve and climb sharply to avoid damage.

The astonished reporter continued, breathlessly, “Ladies and gentlemen…Gotham Mercy Hospital is gone.  May God have mercy on anyone who may have been trapped inside.”

Dick gripped Tim’s shoulder painfully, “Come on, suit up.  We…”

Dick stopped as the camera switched back to the reporter.  He had been handed a sheet of paper by a producer, who was trying to run out of frame as quickly as possible.  “This just handed to me, ladies and gentlemen.  We have received,” the man pressed the ear piece in his ear with an incredulous look on his face, “Are you kidding me, Jane?  No?  Okay, the newsroom has just received this fax, demanding to be read on the air, or else more destruction will come.  Okay, here goes.  ‘To the people of Gotham.  I am sorry I have had to resort to such a vile act for just a demonstration, but your obstinate attitude has made it necessary.  It has come to my attention that Batman and Robin were treated for injuries at this very hospital some weeks ago.  If you haven’t noticed, Batman really is not interested in the welfare of Gotham.  That is something that us, the True Citizens of Gotham, are here to help you with.  Gotham is under my protection, and me and my friends will help cure you of your night rodent infestation.  We are here to say, if you are listening out there, that you are no longer welcome in Gotham City, Batman.  You are an enemy of the people.  Anyone who chooses to help the Batman will suffer the same fate as Gotham Mercy Hospital.  Help me rid our town of the Bat, and I need not play with my new toy in the future.  What’ll it be, Gotham?  Love and kisses, Joker.’”  The anchor was silent for a minute, his face pale despite the lights and make-up.  “God…God help us all.  Go to break.  Go to a commercial, now!”

Tim cut off the screen, and all three men stood panting, out of breath, as they had been holding it the entire time the anchor read the letter.

Dick whispered shakily, “A…Alfred, call Dr. Thompkins.  Have her close her clinic.  We’ll pay any lost income.  Get her to the manor and have her send her staff home until this is over.  She stays here until we get that gun away from the Joker.  She’s a target now.  I’ll call the Commissioner, see how he wants to handle this.”  Alfred walked off to make the required phone call.

“What about Jason?  Any word from him lately?” Tim asked, nervously, knowing they were running out of time.

“Nothing in a couple days.  Don’t worry.  If I know the Joker, then Jason’s safe.  He’ll leave Jason alone, just to mess with us.”  Dick was uncertain as he spoke, but had nothing else to go on.

Tim was rewinding through the news footage, trying to find good angles on the hole in the now-ruined hospital.  Dick asked, “What are you thinking, little brother?”

Tim paused the screen on a close-up of the hole.  “That had to have taken a lot of power to make a hole that size.  I wonder if Daka is working like a drug dealer?”

Dick cocked his head and asked, “What do you mean?”

Tim turned in his chair to face Dick, “You know, he sells the first one cheap, then jacks up the price once his users are hooked.  How much do you think he can get for radioactive fuel cells?”

Dick smiled, “That’s a good thought, Timmy.  Now I have something for Damian to research tonight.”

Tim smiled, “Fuel prices?”

“No, large cash transfers from Gotham’s biggest and baddest.  I want to know who else may have one of these, and just how much fuel he or she may have for it.”

 

_Meanwhile, Somewhere Secret…_

“Daka!  Where is my ammo!?!”

The unflappable man clasped his hands behind his back and regarded the white-faced criminal as the man came barging into his control room.

“Ah, Mr. Joker.  I see you have gotten the hang of your new toy?  What can I do for you this time?”

The Joker scowled, “I know you’re not deaf, Doctor.  You owe me ammo for this gun you sold me!”

The inventor raised an eyebrow and said, “ _Owe_ you?”

Joker drew closer to the shorter man and almost growled, “Yes, owe me.  This is my city, do you hear me?  Mine.  If you wish to continue to operate here, then you will pay your dues and give me what you owe me.”

Daka looked almost disappointed, “That’s interesting, Joker, because the way I see it, I have ‘given’ you everything you are owed.”

Joker’s voice was dangerously silky, “How do you figure that?”

Daka paced across the room in front of the criminal mastermind.  “You see, I am a businessman, not a master criminal with aspirations to rule one mostly insignificant city.  You paid me for a gun.  I gave you a gun.  You did not pay me for the ammunition, so I did not see fit to give you any more than what was contracted to come with the weapon.”

Joker drew dangerously close and said, “Watch yourself, Daka.  I’m not sure I want you operating in my city anymore.”

“What makes you think that I plan to continue to operate in your city?”

For once, Joker was at a loss for words.  _What does he mean?  Everyone who’s anyone wants to come work Gotham, why doesn’t he?_

“Are you going to give me the fuel cells, or not?”

Daka stopped his pacing, glaring into the pasty face, “Not.  However, fuel cells are available for purchase at very reasonable prices.”

“How much,” Joker ground out.

Daka began pacing again, with a hand stroking his chin, looking like he was calculating market averages.  “Well, since I am the only provider, you can’t just walk into Walmart and pick up radioactive fuel cells, you know, and they are quite labor intensive in creating, I believe a fair price is ten million dollars.”

Joker jumped in shock, “TEN MILLION?”

“Each,” Daka said, with a small grin.

“Daka…” Joker growled.

“I gave you a deal on the gun, Joker.  You should have thought ahead before you went and melted a hospital and issued a boast, threatening the rest of the city.”

Joker was shaking with irritation.  He turned and took two steps away before swiveling back with a massive revolver in his hand, pointed at Daka.  “Yours wasn’t the only gun I bought recently.  Believe me, I have plenty of bullets for this one.”

Imagining the scientist would show some fear at the prospect of having a known psychopath pointing a gun in his face, Joker was unnerved when Daka just sighed and shook his head.

“This is quite an interesting gun,” Joker smiled, “You like it?  I wanted something special.  It’s an 88 magnum, and it will leave your head on your shoulders.  However, it will send your shoulders across the room, with your head still attached.”

Daka gave a small smile, “You’re not going to shoot me, Joker.”

Joker gave a guffaw, “I’m not?”

“No, you’re not.”

“Really?  Because it really feels like I am.”  Joker cocked the revolver, placing the barrel against the tip of Daka’s nose.

Unfazed, Daka said, “Oh, you’re not.  You still need me, Joker.  I am the only one who can provide you with the fuel cells for the Radium Gun.”

The barrel of the gun dropped a couple inches.  “What is to stop me from killing you once I have the fuel cells?”

Daka resumed pacing, Joker following his path with the gun.  “I believe I understand you, Joker.  You will want an ongoing supply of fuel cells.  Besides, Joker, I’ve been planning for this for thirty years.  Do you honestly think I didn’t plan for dealing with someone like you?  I think it’s time to complete our business, Joker.”

Infuriated at the man’s calm, Joker lifted the gun again, “You can’t plan for me!  No one can plan for the Joker!  I’m one of a kind!”

Daka sighed again, “No Joker, not one of a kind, just the only one in the general area.”  He shook his head sadly, “It doesn’t seem like we will be able to do business today.  So sad.  I guess I have to teach you just who is in charge in this building.”

Joker scoffed, “And I assume you think that is you?”

Daka nodded, with a bored look on his face.  “I do, but for the next minute or so, I will turn that duty over to my new friend.  I believe you know each other, actually.  Please, my friend, come and introduce yourself.”

Joker turned slowly, gun still leveled at Daka.  When his head was turned halfway towards the door, the curved end of a crowbar caught the Joker in the face, breaking the lunatic’s nose in a spray of blood, and sending him sprawling to his back.  The next swing broke the clown’s wrist and sent the obscenely large pistol skittering across the concrete floor.  A blow to the stomach bent the Joker in half, head and legs rising almost comically.  Joker ended up sitting and stared dully at the third man in the room.

“…You!” was ground out of the broken face before the crowbar snapped the Joker’s jaw and sent the man into unconsciousness.

The solid iron tool crashed loudly to the ground next to the unconscious and bleeding criminal as Daka took a step forward.  Prodding the Joker with a sharp kick to the ribs, Daka made a non-committal noise before turning to the third man in the room.

“You didn’t kill him, Mr. Hood.”

Red Hood stood panting over the collapsed villain.  “He made me beg for my life before taking it.  I’ll make him beg for death before granting his wish.”

Daka nodded sagely, “He is, of course, yours to do with as you please.  My reward for my new friend.  Just make sure you clean up when he is done.”

Daka turned back to the screens in his control room, only barely hearing Red Hood mutter quietly.  “No, Dr. Daka, I’m not done with him yet.  Not by a long shot.”

Red Hood grabbed the Joker by a leg and dragged the unconscious criminal from the room, leaving a thin trail of blood as the only proof he had been there.

 

**A/N: Sorry it has been so long since I updated this story, and sorry that this update is so short.  I have written so many other one-shots recently that I needed a bit to get back into the mood of this tale.  However, this is a good thing for fans of this tale, because now that I have come back to it, it will be my only story that I am working on until it is finished.  More to come, I believe this will be wrapped up in another five or six chapters or so.**

**Just to explain the 88 magnum, for those who don’t get the joke.  It is a joke, but it is not mine.  The original is riffing off of Clint Eastwood as Dirty Harry, when he tells a crook that his gun is a 44 magnum, and it could blow his head clean off.  The original 88 magnum joke comes from the movie Johnny Dangerously.  I highly recommend it; the movie is hilarious.**

**Thanks for playing along.  More is coming soon.**


	13. 13

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 13

 

It was a clear and unusually crisp evening that found Batman and Red Robin answering the Bat-Signal at the top of Police Plaza.  Gotham City had been unusually quiet since the Joker’s announcement yesterday morning.  The sight of the shadow of the Bat soaring over the streets had been enough to send the common street tough running, and for honest citizens to board up their windows, so they couldn’t be seen as possibly helping Batman.  None of them would ever know how much keeping the streets clear actually helped Batman.

Gotham had suffered threats before, and would suffer threats again.  However, none of the previous threats had been preceded by the utter immolation of a respected hospital on the border of one of the city’s poorer neighborhoods.  No one wanted to be caught in the Joker’s crossfire this time.

An exhausted Batman stumbled on his rooftop landing, causing Commissioner Gordon to smile behind his coffee cup.  Switching off the signal, the older man approached the vigilante as Red Robin made a more graceful landing.

“What’s the emergency, Commissioner?” Batman asked, a bit breathless.

Gordon couldn’t help but feel for the masked man.  He smiled and said, “No emergency tonight, Batman.  Actually, if you wanted to go back and try that landing again, we have the time.”

Batman turned a glare on the policeman, which was quickly turned on Red Robin, as he snickered at the comment.

“Is it okay with you if I’m a little tired?” Batman asked in an annoyed voice, turning back to the Commissioner, “We haven’t slept since Joker made his little announcement.”

Gordon looked pained at the tired tone of Batman’s voice as he asked, “Any news on that yet?”

Batman shook his head, with a hint of a slump in his shoulders, “Curiously, none.  After the kind of threat he made, I would expect him to be standing on the roof of City Hall, waving that gun of his around.”

Jim spat out his coffee, “Wait, that same gun you gave me the information about?  _That’s_ what he used to cause all that damage?”

Red Robin nodded, “That’s the one.”

The Commissioner shook his head sadly, “I can see why you haven’t slept.  Come in, at least I can offer you a cup of coffee.”

They entered the Commissioner’s office and stood before his desk.  “Coffee?” Gordon asked.

Batman and Red Robin glanced at each other, then shrugged as Batman said, “Sure, why not?”

As Gordon requested two fresh cups from his secretary, Batman asked, “Was there an actual reason for the signal, or did you just want a coffee klatch?  If it’s the latter, we passed three Starbucks on the way here.”

After their coffee was delivered by the Commissioner’s secretary, Jim said, “There is one thing, actually two things.  Here.”  Commissioner Gordon handed over a file to Batman.

“What’s this?” Batman asked as he leafed through the pages in the manila folder.

“Casualty list from Gotham Mercy Hospital.”

Red Robin gave a low whistle as Batman flipped page after page of names.  “Why are there three lists?” Red Robin asked as he noticed the three separate stapled groups of pages.

“First list is deceased hospital staff.  Second list is deceased patients.  Third list is combined survivors, staff and patients.” Jim sighed heavily, “I’m sorry to say that the third list is by far the shortest.”

Batman looked up from the pages, “This seems like a lot of names, Jim.”

“The attack couldn’t have happened at a worse time of day.  The hospital was near patient capacity, and the attack happened during shift change.  There were two full hospital shifts present in the building.” Jim looked down as he said, “Most…most of them…didn’t make it out.”

Batman paled under his cowl as he went over the staff list again, looking more closely for specific names this time.  He closed his eyes under his lenses as he found the one name he hoped wouldn’t be there.  Placing a finger on the page, he held the file up for Red Robin to read.  A slight gasp told Batman that Red Robin recognized the name.

Commissioner Gordon stood, walked around the desk, and read over the teen’s shoulder.  “Leroy Hayes?  Did you know him?”

Batman took a deep, unsteady breath, “He was Robin’s physical therapist.  Robin was very fond of him; he’s going to take this very hard.”

Commissioner Gordon looked deep in thought, “Leroy Hayes.  That name came up during one of the survivor interviews.”  Jim returned to his desk and pulled out another file.  Leafing through pages, the man finally pulled out the interview in question and handed it over to Batman.

Batman read the account and a slow smile spread across the uncovered portion of Batman’s face.  He looked up and asked, “Can I have a copy of this, as well?  I think Robin will like it.”

Unspeaking, Jim took the paper back and walked to the copy machine, making the copy himself and handing the warm sheet to the vigilante.  Batman nodded his appreciation.

“Commissioner, you said there were two reasons you lit the signal tonight.  What was the second reason?”

The Police Chief smiled gently at the men before him.  “Yes, well.  That was a request from the majority of the department.  Joker has most of the city too scared to leave their homes, but the GCPD stands with you, Batman.  We lit the signal tonight to show the city that we aren’t scared of his threats.  You just let us know what you need of us, and we will make it happen.”

_Later, Back at the Cave…_

Batman and Red Robin returned to the cave an hour later with their spirits boosted far higher than normal for a patrol night.  The city was gripped in such a panic at the Joker’s announcement that Batman and Red Robin had not had to solve one crime that evening, and as such, called it a night early.  Their patrol time had been spent brainstorming possible locations for Daka’s base of operations.  That conversation had taken up an hour of aimless driving around deserted streets, and had resulted in a short list of possible locations, all of which could be checked later.

Commissioner Gordon’s statement regarding the loyalties of the city’s police force had done more to lift the spirits of the two men than Damian’s return from the hospital had.  Gordon had promised increased patrols until such time as Batman could clear up the mess with the Joker.  With more cops on the streets and fewer citizens running around, Batman and Red Robin could only see their job getting easier.

It was with an uncharacteristic smile that Batman exited the Batmobile upon returning to the cave.  Batman and Red Robin showered and changed at a leisurely pace, feeling for the first time in weeks that they could afford a good night’s sleep.

“Hey, Tim!” Dick called from the next shower.

“What’s up?”

Dick called out as he rinsed shampoo from his hair, “You want to take the rest of the night off?  Or, should we start in on the possible hideout locations?”

Tim turned off his shower and began drying off as he said, “Um…I think we should take the night off.  We have to make an appearance at the office tomorrow, just to make sure that no one tries to steal Bruce’s company from you.  Besides, don’t you have some bad news to give out?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.  Not exactly looking forward to it, though.”  Dick dressed and left the locker room, looking for his youngest brother.

Alfred entered the cave as Dick approached the computer.  “Quiet night, sirs?”

Dick nodded, “Yes, but a good night, none the less.  The Commissioner assured us that the police force is behind us.  No sign of the Joker, but we may have a few locations to look for Daka.”

Alfred smiled, “Then a good night.”

Dick sighed, “Well, not entirely good.  Where’s Damian?”

“The young master has been rethinking his decision in asking me to facilitate his recovery.  He was tasked with a set of stairs.”

Dick smiled, remembering the butler’s strengthening regimen from his own previous injuries.  “So, he thought he could pull something over on you?”

“Not especially, Master Dick, but sleeping while on radio duty, even on such a quiet night, cannot be overlooked.  Why do you say it wasn’t as good a night as you initially let on?”

Dick hesitated as Tim approached the men.  “I think I’ll let Timmy tell you while I take care of Damian.  I think it will just work better that way.”

Dick left the others at the computer and hustled up the stairs.  He could hear Alfred gasp behind him as Tim gave the butler the news that Dick was trying to think of a way of breaking to the boy. 

Entering the house, Dick followed the sounds of heavy breathing.  In the entryway, he found his quarry.  Damian was halfway up the grand staircase, holding on to the bannister with his left hand as he wiped his forehead with his right.  Even from half a floor away, Dick could see the child panting from exertion.  _How many sets of stairs did Alfred assign him?  Hopefully he will tire himself out and sleep well tonight._

Damian hung his head to catch his breath, and noticed as he looked down the stairs that Dick was standing at the base of the staircase, watching him.  _How long has he been there?  I thought he was still patrolling._

Damian took a deep breath and resumed his climb up the stairs.  He reached the top, moving still with a pronounced limp, but faster than Dick expected.  The boy stood at the top of the stairs and placed his hands on his hips, taking a couple deep breaths before saying breathlessly, “Well?”

Dick was concerned at the tone of voice.  Damian had been working hard to recover from his injuries, and for him to be this out of breath was a bit concerning to the older man.  He decided he would ask Dr. Thompkins to check his little brother out in the morning, just to make sure the repaired lung was working as well as it should.

“Well, what?” He asked with a smile.

“I know Pennyworth told you I fell asleep while on duty.  Aren’t you going to lecture me, or assign me another punishment, like he did?”

Dick cringed internally.  _What I have to tell you is going to be punishment enough._   Damian started down the stairs, and Dick waited until the boy stood in front of him before speaking again.

“I’m not going to punish you, Damian.  I have no reason.  And Alfred wasn’t punishing you either, so please don’t look at it that way.”  Dick placed a hand on the child’s shoulder and could feel perspiration soaking the material.  “How many sets of stairs did he assign you?”

Damian shrugged and said, “Two sets.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, concerned that Damian was sweating this much for such a small amount of effort.  “And, how many have you done?”

“Seven.”

Dick released the breath he had been holding.  _Leave it to my little brother to add to his own ‘punishment’._   “How many sets were you planning on doing?”

Damian looked up into Dick’s eyes, growing alarmed at the pain hidden in the blue orbs.  “Ten.  Something’s bothering you, Grayson.  What is it?”

Ignoring the demand for information, Dick said, “Well, you’re going to do eight sets of stairs…”

Damian interrupted, shock evident on his face, “… _Eight more sets_?  You said you weren’t going to punish me!”

Dick continued, “No, not eight more, just eight.  We’re going to go upstairs and change, then come back down.  That will be your eighth set, right?”

“Oh, right.  Why are we changing?”

Dick turned the youth towards the stairs, holding out his arm to steady Damian as they both began to climb the stairs.  “We’re changing because I can tell that you‘re sore from all the work you have been doing.  Leslie says you’re down five pounds from your release weight, and your leg is getting stronger by the day.  Don’t tell her I told you, but she is planning on taking your crutch away tomorrow.  You’re never going to fully heal if you keep using it like a crutch.”

Damian stopped and shot his brother a glare, “You do realize how stupid that statement was, right Grayson?  Using a crutch like a crutch?  If you want to keep making jokes like that, I can think of another use for the crutch.  I wouldn’t even feel bad doing it, either, because we have a doctor in the house.”

Dick smiled at the repartee, missing from their conversations recently.  _If only this mood could last for the rest of the night.  I hate having to drop this bombshell on him now._   “Once we’re changed, we’re going to take some time in the spa.  That should help loosen those muscles some, and maybe you can relax a bit.”

“…Then, you’ll tell me what’s bothering you?”  Damian asked, a bit more hesitant than he meant to sound.

Dick stopped outside the door to his bedroom and nodded, “Yeah, then I’ll tell you.  Hurry up, I’ll meet you here in three minutes.”

Two minutes and twenty-eight seconds later, Dick exited his bedroom to find Damian waiting impatiently in the hall.  Damian stood in his swimsuit, tapping a foot in frustration.

“You’re late,” the younger brother said in an annoyed voice.

“Am not,” the older brother replied.

They returned to the brighter light of the entryway, and Dick gasped in shock.  This was the first chance he had, since Damian was released from the hospital, to see the scars their night at the warehouse had left.  There was a small line protruding from the boy’s hairline.  It was almost invisible, unless one knew where to look.  The left side of Damian’s chest bore a thick, diagonal line of scar tissue, starting a couple inches below the collarbone, and curving around to his side, ending under his arm.  A small incision to the right of his navel was mixed in with several older scars and marks, from his days with the League of Assassins.  The left leg was still noticeably smaller than the right, although it had caught up some due to Damian’s almost tireless work at the direction of Alfred.  A large, vertical incision marked the entire length of Damian’s right knee, denoting where the joint replacement resided.

Damian turned to look at Dick as the man stood and stared dumbly at the boy.  He was about to comment when Dick engulfed Damian in a tight hug.  A few tears leaked out of Dick’s eyes as he said in an equally watery voice, “I’m so sorry, Damian.  I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from all…that.  You didn’t deserve any of those scars.”

Damian was taken aback.  He didn’t know what to say to the outright emotion.  Figuring he had to say something, Damian stumbled over his response.  “Yeah, well…I knew it wasn’t safe…being Robin.  You aren’t exactly unscarred yourself.”  Damian stared pointedly at the three circular marks on Dick’s chest, the result of armor-piercing bullets.  “Scars…they’re just part of the life, right?  Not all of these are from the warehouse.  You don’t get out of the League without a few scars.”

Dick could tell that Damian was just trying to make him feel better, even if Damian would never admit to it.  “I could have done more, though.  I should have done more.”

Damian was silent for a minute, not knowing what to say next.  Finally, he stammered, “No…no one forced me out there.  I wouldn’t give up Robin for anything.  You needed me there.”

Dick released the boy.  Taking a steadying breath, he said, “Yes…yes, I need you…out there.  I’m sorry, this is just the first time I’ve seen your scars since they let you of the hospital.  They’re bigger than I thought they would be, but at least they should fade some, as you get older.”

They walked slowly down the stairs.  Dick pointed out that it was the completion of his eighth set as they passes the bottom riser.  He led the boy down the hall to the indoor pool and spa, where he turned on the jets and heaters before helping Damian into the water.

Once they settled in, Damian asked again.  “Okay, we’re here.  What’s bothering you, Grayson?”

Dick moved from his spot across the hot tub to sit next to the boy.  Taking a deep breath, he started in, “I guess there is no easy way to tell you this.  We saw the Commissioner tonight.  He told us that the GCPD is behind us, all the way…”

“They should be, for all we’ve done for them.”  Damian interrupted, annoyed that the police might possibly lean in any other direction than full support for Batman and his crusade against crime in Gotham.

“Yes, they are showing us great loyalty right now.  They even lit the signal, in defiance of the Joker’s threat.  I think that was a very brave gesture, given how the Joker has threatened destruction to any who openly show support of us.  While we were in his office, Commissioner Gordon gave us a file containing the casualty lists for Gotham Mercy Hospital.  Damian, I’m sorry, but Leroy was one of the casualties.”

Damian’s head snapped to face Dick’s, eyes wide in shock.  His lips parted, but no words would come out.  Dick could see uncharacteristic tears welling up to match how his own eyes felt.  Damian’s jaw worked as he tried to speak, and a slight quiver seemed to engulf the boy.  Dick had never seen Damian looking more like a lost child before.  _He didn’t even look this broken up when Bruce died._

Damian swallowed hard, and was able to force out a few syllables.  “Le…Leroy?  Why?  How?”

Dick scooted closer on the seat, placing an arm on the pool deck behind the boy as he turned fully to face him.  “There is no answering why the Joker does anything.  I do know how, though.  He died a hero, if that makes it any better.  Commissioner Gordon also gave us an account from one of the survivors.  After the initial attack, an evacuation was ordered to try and save anyone they could get out of the hospital.  Leroy jumped into action and started getting as many patients out as he could.  He went back inside five times to get people out.  He was helping evacuate the pediatric wing, carrying two and three kids out at a time.  He was going back for his sixth trip, when the hospital finally collapsed.  He didn’t make it out, but twelve children are alive today because he refused to leave them to die.  He could have gotten himself out, but he chose to put the lives of others above his own.”

The tears had started falling during Dick’s recitation of Leroy’s final minutes.  Damian was unconsciously leaning in towards Dick the longer the story went on.  Their eyes met, and Dick gave a nod.  Damian closed his eyes and leaned in the rest of the way, allowing Dick’s strong arms to wrap around his shoulders, while his own arms wound tightly around Dick’s chest.  Damian buried his face in Dick’s shoulder, his chin just above the water line, and allowed himself to let the tears flow.  He couldn’t tell how he knew for sure, but instinctually, the child knew that it was safe to react to the news with Grayson.  He knew his brother wouldn’t judge him for not being able to control his emotions in that moment.  He knew there would be no condemnation for acting against a lifetime of training.  He was allowed to be an emotionally wounded child, and that as much as anything else would allow him to get to sleep that night, without the specter of additional nightmares, at least none apart from the usual night terrors.

Several minutes passed, and the ten-year old found himself dragged up into the adult’s lap.  Sitting sideways, Damian’s shoulder was pulled tightly into Dick’s chest, while Dick reached up and cupped the side of Damian’s head, pulling it in to rest against his forehead.  Damian tensed at first, but soon relaxed into his brother as Dick whispered soothing words into the boy’s ear.

“You’re okay, Damian.  You’ll be okay.  We’re here for you, you’re not alone.  We have leads on Daka, and we know where the Joker’s last hideout was.  We’re close to both of them.  They can’t run from us for too much longer.”

They were quiet for a long time after that.  Damian’s tears stopped, the remnants of the salty drops being carried away to mix with the chlorinated water.  Dick was almost sure that the boy had dropped off to sleep when Damian said quietly, “It kinda did help that he died a hero, as you said.  It doesn’t matter if he lived as a hero for his entire life, or just the last hour of it, because he _will_ be avenged in a properly heroic way.  That is a promise from Damian Wayne, and one I intend to keep.”

 

**A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out, but a busy work schedule combined with computer problems added a week to the publication of this chapter.  That week was not spent idly, however, and there is now in existence a definitive outline for the conclusion of this tale.  I’m not sure exactly how many more chapters are coming, but it is now looking like it could be done in as little as three more chapters, with an outside of six.  Next chapter will feature a return to the detective work.  The final, climactic encounter has already been written, and it got me excited just writing it (not like _that_ , but excited none the less).  Now, I just have to get there.  Believe me, it is both worth the wait, and not anything like what you may be expecting.  To the reviewer who hoped that the contents of this chapter wouldn’t happen, sorry.  That part was already written before you wrote your review.**

**Thanks for sticking with me this far, and thanks for all the kind words that have been sent my way in reviews.  Knowing that taking my time to write these tales is appreciated keeps me coming back and coming up with new things.  Knowing that others are getting as much or more out of my work as I am is very encouraging.  I have had reviews and PM’s making connections in my stories that I either missed, or didn’t either intend or originally see.  I like it when people pay attention, especially to details that I didn’t know were there.  I had to take some time and re-read my tales in timeline order again, just to make sure that I wasn’t missing anything else.  So, thanks everyone.**

**Standard disclaimer is standard.**


	14. 14

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 14

 

The elevator door chimed as the door opened into the cave.  The lift car let Barbara roll herself into the cave to join Dick and Tim around the computer.  The brothers looked up as she approached and smiled.

“Hey, pretty lady,” Dick smiled widely as he got up to give Barbara a kiss, “Missed you lately.  Where’ve you been?”

Barbara blushed lightly at Dick’s gushing, “I don’t have the luxury of owning a multinational corporation that can essentially run itself while I take numerous days off.  I actually have to go to work to earn my paycheck.”

Tim acted offended, “We went to the office today.”

Barbara smiled playfully, “And I can see that you put in a full day’s work.  My, it must be,” she checked her watch, “Almost two o’clock.  How are you staying awake right now?”

Tim answered good-naturedly, “Well, it is difficult, but that morning nap at my desk really helped.”

“What is the discussion of the day that has both of you down here, instead of upstairs?  It’s beautiful out today, and you have a lot more idyllic spaces to have this conversation than here.”

Dick returned to business.  “I’m tired of playing catch-up with our enemies.  I want to know where they are so we can take them down.  I don’t care which one it is, I want either Daka or the Joker in jail tonight.  I had to explain to my little brother last night that a person he came to care about, even though he wouldn’t admit it, was killed in the Joker’s attack.”

Barbara gasped, “Leroy?”

Dick nodded sadly, “Yeah, Leroy.  I had to tell Damian something that hurt him, and that is completely Daka’s and the Joker’s fault.  So, what do you say?  Help us find them?”

Barbara nodded, “Why else do you think I’m here?”

“I was hoping it was because you like me.”

“I do like you, but this is more important.  So, where do we stand?”

Tim typed into the computer and brought up a couple lists he had complied earlier.  “Do we want to start with Daka or the Joker?”

“Let’s start with…” Dick trailed off as he heard irregular steps on the stairs.  Looking over, he saw Damian limp into the cave.  The boy stopped short as he saw the three adults around the computer, a hurt look making its way onto his features.

“I see I’m still not fully welcome down here.”  Damian began to turn to head back up the stairs.  Dick trotted over and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you know that’s not true.  Come on over, I want you to help us.”

“Then why did I have to come down, looking for you?  Why did I find the three of you down here working without me, while I’m upstairs, eating lunch alone?”

“Because Alfred obviously likes you better than he likes us.  We haven’t seen lunch yet.”

Damian still looked down as Dick continued.  “This is your investigation just as much as it is ours.  I want your input on this.  Come on over, we’re discussing possible hideouts for Daka and the Joker.  We just barely started, all we’ve really done is pull up Tim’s file.”  Damian still hesitated, “It’s _okay_ , Damian.”

“Okay,” Damian let himself be led back to the computer.  Tim gave the boy a friendly nod as Barbara reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

Dick nodded to Tim and said, “Let’s start with Daka first.  Tim, read the list of places we came up with last night.  Then, let’s go over them one by one until we find the right one.  I want to know all of your thoughts about each place.”

Tim zoomed in on the list before reading it out loud.  “Okay, first is the Northern Dock Expansion.  The Hertz Tower is next, in the financial district.  The Ratley Industrial Complex in Midtown is a likely candidate.  You mentioned the Northgate Subway expansion that closed last year.  Finally, we have the Marshall Factory in Crime Alley.”

Dick nodded, “Okay, let’s start with the Northern Dock Expansion.  Any ideas, any at all.”

Barbara spoke up, “The Docks have been relatively quiet lately, no reported influx of activity.”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Damian said quietly, “Someone like Daka can’t grow his operations by making noise and advertising his presence.”

“That’s my thought, too,” Tim said.

“The docks would be a bit obvious for a criminal enterprise backed by a shipping company,” Dick said.

“Still, it would give him access to everything he needs, with relatively little oversight,” Barbara threw in.

Dick said, “Yes, but like you said, the docks have been quiet.  I can’t think that our contacts wouldn’t tell us about something new in the area.”

Tim shook his head, “So, we’ll hold on to the docks as a secondary option.  How about the Hertz Tower?”

“Too centrally located,” Barbara said, “There are no industrial processes available in the area.”

Tim scratched his chin and asked, “What’s to say he only has one headquarters?”

Damian pointed out, “No, Hertz Tower is along one of our main patrol routes, and it’s only empty now while it’s being renovated.  The businesses are going to move back in soon.”

Dick smiled, “Damian, that was a well thought out, rational argument.  Anyone have a rebuttal?”  Matching shakes of the head indicated no.  “Okay, so we can mark the Hertz Tower off the list.”

Tim highlighted the entry on the list in red, to signify that it was off the table.  “Okay, what’s next?”

Dick pointed at the screen, “I can mark another one off the list.  The Northgate Subway Expansion.  I looked into it from the office this morning.  It was closed due to flooding.  Structural engineers have been there every day since the expansion closed.  There is no way Daka could have moved in there.”

Tim smiled, “I like hearing that.  Okay one more down.”  He marked the subway expansion off the list as well.

Barbara read over the list again, “That just leaves Ratley and Marshall.”

Tim snickered, “Marshall would be a bit ironic for Daka.”

Damian asked, “What does that mean, Drake?”

Dick smirked, “I think I know, if you are thinking historically.”

“I am.”

“Grayson?”

“Go ahead, Tim.  It’s your joke.”

“No, Dick, you figured it out, you tell it.”

Barbara rolled her eyes.  “What the Marx Brothers over there are trying to be too clever to say, mostly because they know you will call them idiots, which they are, is that it would be ironic if Dr. _Tito_ Daka were to hole up in the _Marshall_ Furniture Factory building.”  Damian looked like he still didn’t get it, so Barbara went into teaching mode.  “Marshall Tito was a…”

Damian interrupted, “I know who he was.  I’m just trying to figure out why they think it’s funny.”

Dick and Tim both snickered to themselves.  Dick said, “I’ll admit, it would be funnier if he were to be using…say, the Jackson Industrial Building, but…”

Tim interrupted, shaking his head, “Really?  Tito Jackson?  When we get there, are you going to be asking which of his henchmen is named Jermaine?”

Dick turned with a wink, “No, but you know that with the universal popularity of the name, there has to be a Michael there somewhere.”

Damian shook his head and mumbled, “Maybe I should have just stayed upstairs.”

Alfred approached from the direction of the elevator, pushing a covered serving tray in the direction of the computer.  Stopping a couple steps away, he said, “I see my timing seems to be appropriate, since you seem to be taking a break.  I thought an afternoon snack would not go amiss, since you two chose to skip lunch.”  Alfred uncovered the tray to reveal a stack of sandwiches, fruit, cookies, and drinks.

Tim’s eyes grew as his mouth watered, “Alfred, that looks amazing, thanks.”

The butler gave a small smile, “Not at all, Master Timothy.  Miss Barbara, may I make you a plate?”

She looked eagerly at the tray, “You’re too good to us, Alfred, thank you.”

When Alfred had retreated and the older boys were munching hungrily, Damian took an apple and limped over to sit on the stairs.

Tim nudged Dick and asked quietly, “What’s up with him?”

Dick looked up to see his little brother sitting alone, across the room, and sighed, “He still thinks we don’t want his help, or even want him down here.  It didn’t help that we didn’t tell him we were coming down here to plot strategy.”

Tim was confused, “That’s ridiculous.  How could he think we don’t need his help?  This is just as much his case as it is yours.”

Dick gave a soft smile, “That’s exactly what he said earlier.”

Tim gave Dick a suspicious look, “What brought this on?”

Dick sighed again, “When he got home from the hospital, I told him he would heal faster if he didn’t have to keep coming up and down from the cave.”

“Right, I remember that.”

“Well, that’s not how I phrased it originally.  I told him that it would be for the best if he didn’t come down to the cave.  He took it as he wasn’t welcome down here anymore, that we didn’t need or want him.”

Barbara, who had been listening, said, “You need to make that up to him, and soon.”

Dick looked over, “I’ve been trying, but his self-esteem is in such a shambles since he was wounded, he is having a hard time believing me.  I need him.  Batman needs his Robin just as much as I need my brother,” he glanced at Tim, “All my brothers.  I just wish he would believe me.”

“Maybe you should have tried saying that first, instead of something requiring explanation and apology,” Damian said from the stairs, “And maybe you should remember the excellent quality of the acoustics this cave produces.”

Dick’s face flushed bright red as he glared at Tim, who was trying his best to keep from laughing.  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you, Timmy?”

“Maybe a little.  Now that the cat’s out of the bag, go and make it better, before we get started again.”

Dick huffed as he got up and walked over to the boy on the stairs.  Before he could say anything, Damian asked, “Is what you just said true?  I blew everything out of proportion because you phrased it badly?”

“Yes.”

“You really want my help?  You aren’t just pandering to me?”

“Just look how helpful you have been today.  Of course I want your help.”

Damian stood, slowly, and covered the remaining distance between him and his brother, before looking up and saying, “Okay.  Time is running out, let’s narrow down those last locations.  I want you to put one of them away for me tonight.”

Damian turned back towards the table when Dick grabbed him and pulled him back into a tight embrace, and whispered, “Thanks.  Love you, little brother.”

They returned to the computer, Damian tolerating the arm Dick threw around his shoulders.  Damian asked, “Okay, where were we?”

Still chewing a sandwich, Tim pointed at the screen and highlighted the two remaining possibilities.

Barbara read out, “Ratley Industrial Complex and Marshall Furniture Factory.  Let’s start with Ratley.”

Tim nodded and said, “Okay, I looked into Ratley a bit this morning.  It is mostly closed storefronts, but there is an old metal shop that could be converted to produce his super alloy.  That is, assuming the machinery wasn’t sold off when the business closed.”

“Eh, I’m not so sure,” Dick said, looking skeptical, “Ratley was initially a strip mall.  It feels too public, too out in the open for an operation like Daka’s.”

Damian nodded next to his brother, “I agree.  It doesn’t have the space for a large-scale operation.”

Barbara asked, “Who says we’re looking for a large-scale operation?  Maybe Daka has stayed under the radar for so long because he runs something small.  Or, maybe even several ‘something’s small’.”

Dick’s jaw dropped slightly.  “I really didn’t want to think about that possibility.”

After a minute of silent contemplation, Tim said, “Ratley is located in Midtown.  Even if it is a super small operation, the police presence in that area would be too high to risk it.  It would have been noticed by now.”

Dick shrugged, “I guess that just leaves Marshall, no matter how ironic I think the naming is.”

Damian shook his head and mumbled, “Not that again.”

Barbara thought out loud, “Marshall is really the only one that would fit the bill.  It is large, out of the way, known to be abandoned, and still has all its manufacturing capability intact.”

Dick said, “Okay, but why Marshall?  Why not any of the fifty other abandoned factories along Sawyer?”

Damian said in a deathly serious tone, “You just don’t want it to be Marshall because Marshall is the only abandoned factory, and the only one on our suspect list, that falls in Crime Alley, in Todd’s area of influence.”

Tim and Barbara were silent, only now realizing the true location of the complex in question.

Dick grew angry at being called out, “What’s wrong with wanting it to be somewhere else?  Jason would have told us if something like that moved into his territory, so it can’t be there.”

“Would he?” Tim asked quietly.

Dick felt like he was being backed into a corner, “He would tell me,” Dick said, wondering how true his statement was.

Barbara brought up a report from Gotham PD, a disturbance call from the area around Marshall.  “Dick, it makes sense.  Police picked up a disturbance call from around the factory last night.  The end of the report noted a light on at the factory.  There hasn’t been anything operating legally in that factory since before any of us were born.  Trucks have been seen in the area around the factory for the first time in years.  Locals have reported an increase in the general population in the area.  Whether it’s Daka or not, something is going on there.”

“I still don’t believe that Jason wouldn’t report it.”

Damian asked, “Have you heard from Todd lately?”

“Not since the night I sent him to search his territory for us,” Dick answered painfully.  He was greatly concerned for his brother, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that Jason hadn’t called in because he couldn’t, until just now.

Tim cast a pleading gaze at Dick.  “Dick, it all fits.  If it is or it isn’t, we still have a responsibility to check it out.  If Daka isn’t there, then we will come up with another list of possible sites, and another, and another, until we find the right one.”

Dick realized that they were right.  Daka had to be operating out of the Marshall Factory, no matter how much he wanted him to be almost anywhere else.  He gave a heavy sigh as he dragged his fingers through his hair in frustration.  “Okay, okay.  You’re right, it fits.  I don’t like it, but it fits.  So, we are deciding on the Marshall Factory for Daka?” He received three nods from around the table.  “Fine, whatever.  Let’s look at the Joker now.  What are the options for him?”

Tim brought up another list, this one only bearing three entries.  “Here, we have the Joker’s favored hideouts.  First is Ace Chemicals, an older hideout, but one that he has used frequently.  The Novelite Toy Company, by far his favorite of his numerous headquarters.  Finally, the Toys R Us at Wabash and Lake.  Not a commonly used spot, but something we should consider.”

Damian shook his head and said, “I did a little digging of my own this morning.  It’s the Novelite Toy Company building.  There’s no other choice.”

Dick looked at his youngest brother and asked, “Why?”  His tone carried just a bit more bitterness than he meant for it to convey.

Ignoring the tone, Damian continued, “It has to be the Novelite building for three simple facts.  Fact one, the Ace Chemicals building burned down last month.  Faulty wiring led to a short, which led to a very large fire.  The place is just ashes now.  Fact two, the Toys R Us at Wabash and Lake was purchased last week.  If I read the news report correctly, it is being repurposed into a grocery store.  Construction is set to begin next week, and crews have been all over the property, just like with the crews at the flooded subway expansion.  Fact three, no matter where he goes, or how long he’s gone, Joker _always_ goes back to the Novelite Toy Company.  There’s nowhere else he can be.”

Dick’s expression neutralized during Damian’s calm, rational explanation.  _He’s right, there really is nowhere else the Joker can be._   “You convinced me.  Either of you have anything to say about the Joker’s location?”

Tim smiled, “Good job, Damian.  Sounds good to me.”

Barbara had nothing to say, so Dick continued, “Okay, so we have our starting points.  I still don’t like the Marshall Factory, but that is our agreed upon choice, for now.  I hope we’re wrong about that one.”

“I don’t,” Damian snorted.

“What?” Dick asked dangerously.

Damian looked at Dick defiantly, “I said, I don’t hope we’re wrong about Marshall.  I want to see Daka behind bars, the sooner the better.  If you can find him and get him off the streets, we can discuss the moral issues behind his location after.  He has to be somewhere, and that is the most logical of the options currently presented.  Like Drake said, if it’s wrong, then we will come up with something else, but we won’t know if it is wrong until you investigate.”

“Damian, I…”

Damian’s voice rose, “This has nothing to do with Todd, Grayson!  This has everything to do with getting the man who _blew us up_ off the streets and behind bars, where he belongs.  I thought you were dead, when I found you after the explosion.  If I hadn’t been very broken at the time, I wouldn’t have rested until I found Daka and put him away.  He needs to go somewhere where he can’t do that to people any more.  You need to get out there and put him in his place.  We can deal with Todd later.  Besides, how many criminals do things under _your_ nose, and get away with it?  Isn’t it possible that Todd _doesn’t know_ if Daka is operating in his territory or not?”

Dick didn’t have an answer for Damian’s speech, mostly because the boy was right.  He sat down, so he could look his brother in the eye.  “Okay, Damian.  We’ll check out Marshall.  You’re right, Daka has been working in the shadows for a long time.  It is more than likely that he was able to move in without Jason hearing anything about it.  I want him off the streets, too.  I can’t imagine what that sight was like for you, and I can’t imagine what I would have done if our roles were reversed.  I promise, Daka is going away for good.”

 

**A/N: I don’t know why, but this chapter was hard for me to write.  It is probably because this is the last chapter to be written in this story.  I wrote chapters 15-18 over the past couple days, but this one stumped me a bit.  Either way, here it is.  Thanks for sticking around and reading.**

**Standard disclaimer: As always, no ownership is claimed through my writings.**


	15. 15

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 15

(Just a quick note: five chapters have been published today, so if you are just jumping in here without reading the others, I strongly recommend you go back, just so you don’t miss anything.)

 

_The following takes place the same night as chapter 14._

 

A cool wind blew down Sawyer Avenue as the heat of the day radiated out of the cracked concrete.  Now that the sun had set, the abandoned industrial area could return to its semblance of nothingness.  No one came here anymore; there was no need.  The businesses in the industrial parks, the factories on the main drag, and the warehouses down the alleys, had all closed their doors decades earlier, and now sat abandoned and forgotten.

Gotham City, like most major cities in America, had seen its boom and bust periods.  Gotham was currently rising into another boom, thanks to an influx of multinational corporations, led mostly into the new century by Wayne Enterprises.  New markets were coming into bloom, thanks to advances in technology and changes in personal tastes.  It seemed that any company that could provide the next interest for the fickle needs of consumers could make millions overnight in this town.

Sawyer Avenue wasn’t so lucky.  Sawyer Avenue had come to prominence in the early 1950’s, when the country was just glad to still be a free society.  America had survived World War II relatively unscathed, and, as such, rode a wave of consumerism that came with being the newest superpower in the world, and one of the two major powers left to rise out of the Colonialism period. 

To feed demand for the things that the American consumer society felt were necessary to life, massive industrial complexes grew up around major cities across the country.  Sawyer Avenue was Gotham City’s contribution to America’s manufacturing infrastructure.  Twelve miles worth of factories, warehouses, and shipping hubs, saw the production of everything from appliances, tools, steel, timber, electronics, and furniture.  There was a time in the mid-1950’s when over a third of Gotham City’s employed citizens worked somewhere along Sawyer Avenue. 

Unfortunately, for this beacon of industrialization, America moved on.  Corporations found that overseas labor and manufacturing processes were far cheaper.  The country’s taste in goods and quality changed and evolved, some say for the better, others say for the worse.  One by one, the factories and businesses were shuttered.  Several were outsourced overseas for cheaper labor.  Many were purchased and consolidated in other parts of the country.  Some just fell into obsolescence and disappeared.  Finally, in 1976, the last business, a coffee shop that had been a favorite of workmen and management alike during the heyday of Sawyer Avenue, served its last meal.  Just like that, an era of Americana ended.  Attempts were made to revitalize the district, but by 1981, the city turned its back on the relics of a bygone era in favor of new enterprises.

The area sat empty for several years, until several buildings found themselves home to a new, more nefarious sort of occupant.  It was reported by the GCPD that every building along the entire twelve miles of Sawyer Avenue had seen at least one arrest.  The area, once famed as a financial gem in the city, now found itself a hive for the criminal element.  Calls came every few years for the entire street to be demolished and something useful to be put in its place.  These calls were most strongly heard every time the news reported a body being found in an abandoned factory or a prostitution ring being uncovered in an empty warehouse.  Eventually, the calls would be heeded, but until they were, Sawyer Avenue would continue to decay in both body and spirit.

One of the first businesses to fold along Sawyer Avenue, the Novelite Toy Company left behind a massive structure, complete with immense industrial tools.  However, even if it were a skeleton of a building, it still would have attracted its current occupant just by the name.  The Joker was a smart and cunning man, and moved his headquarters often.  However, he always came back to the Novelite Toy Company building.  There were many theories in law enforcement as to why, but no one could confirm any of them without risking life and limb as Joker’s next target.  The prevailing sentiment was that the Joker couldn’t pass up a building that was once a source of happiness to millions of children, whether out of a perverse desire to taint the innocence of childhood or just because of the connection to toys.  A small number thought that the Joker may be far older than anyone thought, and could have been an employee of the plant before it closed.  Most just figured that he was a twisted psychopath, and for all anyone knew, he could just like the layout of the building.  It really didn’t matter why the Joker kept coming back, what mattered was that he did.

His confidence in that predictability is what allowed Batman to drive the Batmobile through the front gates surrounding the Novelite Toy Company facility.  Batman stopped the vehicle in the old employee parking lot, noting with some amusement that one of the spaces he was occupying had a faded sign labeled ‘Employee of the Month.’  He and Red Robin exited the vehicle and turned towards the building.

“Why are we going after the Joker first?  Isn’t Daka the bigger threat here?” Red Robin asked.

Batman shook his head, “No, right now, he isn’t.  He isn’t the one threatening the city with destruction just for supporting us.  Daka may be the one making and selling the Radium Guns, but the Joker is the one actually using it against real targets.  Once we put him down, then we can resume our search for Daka.  We’ll try that other warehouse tomorrow night.  I hate to admit it, but I think you’re right.  He has to be there.  Come on, the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get home.”  Batman hated to admit to the location of Daka’s headquarters because Dick refused to believe the Jason would allow the criminal safe haven within his territory.  Unfortunately, nowhere else seemed to fit the requirements.

“Well, at least we know someone is home,” Red Robin said, pointing at a window on the second floor of the building, lit from within.

“Let’s go.  Maybe Joker will feel like cooperating tonight, and we can get this over with before it’s too late.”

Red Robin snorted, “Yeah, don’t hold your breath on that one.”

The duo approached the side entry door.  Batman paused and wondered how many times he had passed through this particular door.

Red Robin poked Batman’s shoulder and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Batman gave a rare, in costume smile and replied, “Just pondering the meaning of insanity.  I’ve passed through this door more times than I can count, on this same errand.  Now, a minute ago, I was hoping for a different outcome.  Am I the insane one, or is the Joker?”

“Normally, I would say the Joker, but then again, I am talking to a man dressed as a giant bat.  Maybe the insanity goes both ways.  I can have Agent A put the rubber sheets on your bed tonight, give you the feeling of being in a padded cell.  Maybe that will help you decide how insane you really are.”

Batman deadpanned, “Thanks, little brother.  Nice to know you always have my back.  Let’s go.”

The Bat brothers silently let themselves into the cavernous former factory and ghosted to the main production floor, where Joker normally set up his living space.  Over his many years of occupancy in the toy factory, he had set up various decorating touches made up of old toys and equipment found discarded in the factory.  After being arrested the first few times, the police had come and cleared out the garish decorations.  Following his first breakout, the Joker had gone on a killing spree that he eventually blamed on the fact that his belongings in the factory had been trashed.  Over the years, the police had found out that it was safer for the city to just leave the items in place.  Joker was far easier on the city when his space remained how he left it, no matter how long it was in between occupancy.

Batman and Red Robin slid silently through the shadows, approaching the back wall of the factory, when shots rang out.  The bullets pinged wildly off various metal and concrete surfaces as Batman and Red Robin sought cover from the assault.

After several seconds of intense gunfire, a deafening silence fell back over the space, until it was broken by a voice.

“Where’s my Puddin’?  What have you done with my Mr. J?”

The men were not expecting the voice of Harley Quinn, and as such, Batman popped his head up to try and locate the woman.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel had been a promising young psychiatrist before her break from reality.  She had been working on the definitive work in profiling the Joker when she found herself being warped by his insane world.  She found something in her sessions with the Joker that she wasn’t expecting, a kindred soul.  Deciding that she could have so much more if she just went with her impulses, she helped free the Joker and followed him, transforming herself into Harley Quinn.

Red Robin leaned over to Batman and asked, “When did Harley get out of jail?  You would think they would let us know these things.”

Batman shook his head, “She’s here now, so we really don’t have to think about it too hard just yet.  You heard what she said, Joker isn’t here.  This could work in our favor.”

Batman and Red Robin took too long in their discussion, and were interrupted again as more gunfire rang out.  They had given Harley time to reload, and just had to wait for the fusillade to stop again.

Several seconds later came the signature ‘click, click’ Batman was waiting for.  He popped his head up again and spotted the petite woman standing on an elevated platform that had been transformed into the Joker’s bedroom.

“Doctor, we just want to talk.  Can we do that?” Batman called out.

“Dr. Quinzel, please.  Maybe we can help you, if you just answer some questions for us,” Red Robin added.

“Don’t call me that!” Harley screamed back.

They watched in horror as she dropped the twin revolvers she had been firing, and pulled out a machine gun.  She tried to take aim, but her hands were shaking badly, and all she managed to do was spray lead ineffectually over the heads of the pair of vigilantes.

Batman and Red Robin waited out her barrage again, and when the assault stopped, they moved, running forward from cover to cover.  When they had covered half the distance without another shot being fired, they stopped in cover and watched the woman, amazed.

Harley was attempting to reload the magazine she had removed from the assault rifle, fumbling with a box of bullets.  What caught their attention more was that she was sobbing the whole time.  The human nature of Dick and Tim was kindled under their masks, and they were able to rein in the more violent tendencies of Batman and Red Robin, just this once.

They walked slowly up to the distraught woman, stopping at the bottom of the stairs, still within range of cover if they needed to dive for it.  Frustrated, Harley threw the rifle down and sobbed harder, until she saw the duo at the bottom of the stairs.  She flinched violently and reached for a rifle, the likes of which Batman had never seen.  Red Robin had seen one like it, in the pages of Popular Mechanics, as a rendered drawing.  His eyes widened as she pointed the silvery weapon in their general direction and pulled the trigger.

“Shit!  That’s the Radium Gun!”  Red Robin grabbed Batman and dragged him behind the nearest cover, hoping it would be sturdy enough to hold under the assault of the weapon.

A high-pitched whistling sounded, like a tiny jet engine powering up, as she held the trigger.  When the whistling reached its high note, it immediately descended the scale again before giving a quiet beep.  Harley pulled the trigger several more times, with the same results:  the Radium Gun was out of power.

Once Batman realized that there was nothing to fear from the weapon at this point, he rushed Harley Quinn, relieved her of the Radium Gun, and proceeded to knock her down.

Approaching his older brother’s side, Red Robin asked, “Was that really necessary?”

“No, it wasn’t, but I don’t like being shot at.  At least I made sure she landed on the couch.”  Batman tied Harley’s wrists and began interrogating the sobbing woman.

“Harley, what were you talking about earlier?  Where is the Joker?”

Harley sniffled, “Why should I tell you anything, Bat-Jerk?”

Batman kneeled down to her level and said, “Because I think we’re looking for the same thing.  We came here looking for the Joker.  We don’t know where he is, either.  Why don’t you tell us what happened the last time you saw him?”

“I’m not gonna rat on Mr. J.”

Red Robin spoke up, “It’s not ratting, Harley.  Think of it this way: you want to know where he is to know he’s safe, and we want to know where he is to know that the city is going to be safe.  Maybe we can help each other?”

She glanced up sharply with red-rimmed eyes, “What do you care, sonny?  You just want to lock up my sweet, innocent Puddin’ again.  You want to take him away from me!  How do I know you don’t already have him?”

Batman said, “Harley, think about it.  Why would we come after you if we already had the Joker?  I’m not trying to make a matched set here.  The local police can handle you just fine, they don’t need me to come in and save the day, just for you.  I walked into this room expecting the Joker.  Tell me what you know.”  His voice grew an edge and a growl as he continued to talk, channeling the Batman of old.

She looked up, a bit shocked, “Geez, Batman, you really know how to make a girl feel lousy about herself.  Fine, what do you want to know?”

“Tell me what happened the last time you saw the Joker.”

Harley sighed, then spoke.  “It was a few days ago, after that thing with the hospital.  Puddin’ was so happy that he got to play with his new toy.  He treats me so well when he’s happy, it was nice.  We had se… _took a nap_ …then he wanted to play with his toy some more, but something was wrong with it.  Oh, Mr. J got into such a rage.  Kept yelling about the guy who screwed him, and how he was going to get even.  He…he said he wouldn’t be gone long, but it’s been days.”  Harley broke down in sobs again as Batman and Red Robin took a step back.

Batman asked, “You don’t think Daka took out the Joker, do you?”

Red Robin thought for a second, “It wouldn’t be the strangest thing we’ve seen on this case.  I think he’s still alive, somewhere.  It’s not good for business to kill off your customers.”

“Right, but this also raises another question.  What kind of enforcers does Daka have?  The ones in the warehouse were bad enough, I’d hate to see what he keeps as his personal bodyguard.”

Red Robin nodded, “Let’s wrap this up.  We have the most important part; Joker’s Radium Gun is off the streets.  We can tell the Commissioner to get the word out.  The city can relax and un-pucker for a bit.”

“You take the gun and call out the police, I’ll take Harley.”

Batman approached the still-sobbing woman and said gently.  “Harley?  Thank you for telling us what you did.  It helps a lot, and you didn’t give anything up about Joker, so he can’t be mad at you whenever he comes back.  I know you won’t believe me, but I never wanted to see you hurt.  I don’t know why you love the Joker, but I can see that it works for you, and that is enough.  Come on, the police will be here soon.  Maybe someone on the inside has news for you about the Joker, okay?”

Harley looked up at the cowl, startled by the kind words.  Batman had never been nice to her before, and she was confused by the change of attitude.  Batman helped her up and walked the both of them out of the factory to wait for the squad car.

 

**A/N:  Well, there’s one problem solved.  There are two more chapters and an epilogue to come, so stay tuned.  I wasn’t sure about bringing Harley into this story, but this chapter is almost meant as a bit of comic relief, so why not.  I never actually intended to bring the Joker into the story before I actually did, so things can evolve.  Whatever works, right?**


	16. 16

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 16

(Just a quick note: five chapters have been published today, so if you are just jumping in here without reading the others, I strongly recommend you go back, just so you don’t miss anything.)

 

 Sawyer Avenue’s twelve mile length gave the road another distinction in Gotham City.  Its length and positioning allowed it to pass through more diverse sections of the city than any other street in the city.  It began at the northern harbor area, bordered along the edge of downtown and the financial district, before ending at the northern edge of Crime Alley.

This end of the street saw another unique feature of Sawyer Avenue’s line of industrial decay.  The very last former factory in line is the only one to ever house two separate industrial businesses.  The third factory built when Sawyer Avenue saw its rise to prominence was the American Furniture Industrial Complex.  The sprawling factory was commissioned by a man who knew far more about science fiction than the demands of the American public.

The early 1950’s saw the nation looking forward.  The future seemed bright, and entertainment trends followed suit.  There were fantastic stories available depicting what life in the future would look like.  The House of Tomorrow was awash in the latest technological advances.  The American Furniture Company hoped to capitalize on those advances and trends.  They specialized in futuristic looking furniture, crafted from the latest trend in materials, plastic.  Every item was designed to look like it had materialized out of a comic book or sci-fi movie.

Unfortunately, the House of Tomorrow concept never materialized into the mainstream of America, and the company was unable to cope with the hit.  It went under before the end of the decade, leaving its owner questioning where he had gone wrong until the day of his tragic death a mere year after his business collapsed.

The factory sat vacant until 1961, when a man named Ethan Marshall decided it would be a good idea to enter the furniture manufacturing market.  He bought the empty building and repurposed the machinery for the manufacture of more traditional styles of furniture.  Slowly, the Marshall Furniture Company grew into a success.  However, in a move of irony, all of the offices in the building were furnished with leftover futuristic chairs and tables, abandoned in the factory’s warehouse when the American Furniture Company went out of business.

The business grew steadily, and turned a tidy profit for the small manufacturer.  The owners, however, couldn’t see a good thing when they had it.  Ethan Marshall wanted to expand and take their line national, but he needed help.  His financial standing was not as good as he needed it to be in order to expand as far as he wanted to.  His reach exceeded his grasp, and in a move that would change the landscape of Gotham City forever, he turned to the mob for help.

Up until this point in history, organized crime had not been successful in establishing a foothold in the city.  Now, they had a willing participant, and they were not going to lose it.  Ethan Marshall approached Ezio Falcone to ask for the financial backing he needed to take his company national.  Don Falcone was more than willing to help, for certain concessions.  Marshall agreed, only looking at the expansion of his company, and a deal was formed.

What Marshall didn’t know was that The Falcone Family was under close scrutiny by the FBI.  Within a week, Marshall’s factory was under surveillance.  Ethan Marshall had never been known as a careful or secretive man, and evidence of his collusion with organized crime mounted quickly.  The honest, hardworking businessman was arrested and grilled for hours about his connections to the underworld.

After Marshall’s arrest, several prominent arrests were made within the Falcone family.  Unfortunately for Marshall, it was all too easy to figure out where the leak had originated.  Falcone himself moved into the factory and, as punishment for Marshall’s testimony, shut it down.  All of the workers were fired, and most of the machinery was sold off to pay Marshall’s debt to Falcone.  Marshall himself was found a month later, dumped into the Gotham River, a testament to never mess with the mob, and a warning to never squeal.  Falcone moved out of the factory before the final decline of Sawyer Avenue, allowing it to fall into disrepair, like much of the rest of the street.

The Marshall deal opened the door to organized crime in Gotham, and allowed for the section of the city around the factory to earn its nickname, Crime Alley.  The area was ruled by the mob until their place in the city was threatened by a winged avenger, born on the very streets of Crime Alley, behind the Palace Theater.  The rise of the Super Villain took Batman’s attention away from organized crime for the most part, but it was never too far out of his mind.

Then, several years later, a new avenger roamed the streets of Crime Alley.  This Red Hooded vigilante worked differently than Batman, but had many of the same goals in mind.  This one made deals with the Families.  Let the kids grow up relatively safe, let the honest folk live their lives, and Red Hood would work to keep Batman out as much as the good folks safe.  The arrangement worked, but there was still enough crime to allow the area to keep its nickname.

Now, a resurgence of sorts was happening in the old Marshall factory.  Lights could be seen at night in several windows.  The occasional truck entered the yard after midnight, always leaving or going under cover before dawn broke.  People could be seen wandering the complex, looking like they belonged there, not just the usual scroungers looking for something of value or homeless looking for a dry place to sleep.  Local restaurants noticed an uptick in business not seen since the heyday of Sawyer Avenue.  And the Red Hooded protector of Crime Alley had regular meetings with the factory’s new occupants.

If Batman and Red Robin had taken an extra day to scout the suspected location of Dr. Daka’s hideout, they would have seen everything they needed to know about his plans and the status of their wayward brother.  As it was, Batman was still hyped up about recovering the Joker’s Radium Gun and returning Harley Quinn to prison.  He wanted to continue riding what he perceived as a run of good luck and make a play for Daka while he was relatively certain they knew where his hideout was.

Batman pulled the Batmobile into the alley next to the south wall of the Marshall Factory.  Red Robin had found a potential hole in any defense pattern on this side of the wall when studying schematic layouts of the property that morning.  The warehouse loading docks faced this side of the property, and required large amounts of open space for trucks to be able to maneuver.  This also meant that any sentries would be out in the open or high up on top of the warehouse.  Red Robin figured that they could cross the open space relatively quickly and make an assault on the warehouse without causing too much noise.

Looking at the size of the open area, Batman whispered to his companion, “Red, are you sure that we can make it across that as quietly as you thought?”

Red Robin observed the space, far larger than he originally thought, “Um…well, maybe?”

Batman looked at the teen with a smirk.  “Nothing like confidence from my partner to inspire faith in our plan.”

Red Robin rolled his eyes as he said, “Okay, what do you think we should do?”

“I think we should have gone with Robin’s plan, and come in from the air in the Bat-plane.  But, since we’re already here, no point in not sticking with what he have.”

Batman climbed the wall and crouched on the other side, Red Robin joining him a second later.  There were no search lights, and observable patrols were kept to a minimum by necessity.  After all, Daka really didn’t want anyone knowing where his hideout was located, otherwise it wouldn’t be a _secret_ hideout anymore.  As such, Batman and Red Robin were able to approach the building with ease, without being spotted.

As they crouched outside of the warehouse doors, trying to decide which one would provide the best entry point, Red Robin looked up.  Always taught to observe their surroundings, Red Robin was the first one to notice the upgraded security measures at the otherwise low-tech building.

“Smile, you’re on camera,” Red Robin nudged Batman as he watched the high-mounted security camera rotate through its patrol arc, its blinking red light indicating an active feed going to somewhere.

Batman sighed, _well, shit._   “I suppose it had to happen.  Don’t worry, this is a good thing.”

“How is it a good thing that they know we’re coming?”

Batman thought for a second, “At least it lets us know we are in the right place.  Even if it isn’t Daka, someone cares enough about this place to install security cameras.  We’ll end up busting someone tonight.”

_Meanwhile, very close by…_

Red Hood approached the control room at the behest of Dr. Daka, a hint of nerves forming in his stomach as he answered the call for an audience.  _Chill, Hood.  If he wanted me dead, I would probably already be dead._

Having learned through observation that Dr. Daka did not like to be disturbed unnecessarily, Red Hood entered the control room and stood, waiting to be acknowledged.

Just when Red Hood started wondering if he should make his presence known, Daka called out without turning around.  “Mr. Hood, so glad you were punctual.  That is a characteristic I like in my Agents.  Please, come closer.”

Hood took a couple steps out of the shadows, but still not quite close to the scientist.  Daka smiled at the vigilante’s caution.  “I appreciate your sense of…propriety, but I assure you, you are not in any danger…yet.”

Red Hood was instantly on guard as he walked to within a few feet of Dr. Daka, _what the hell does he mean, yet?_   “You wanted to see me, doctor?”

“Yes.  I have come to like having you around.  You know the area, the players, the threats, the safe havens.  I believe it is time that you truly prove your worth to me.  I assure you, the rewards for my favor are immense.”

“I’m listening,” Hood said cautiously.

“My Agents have my utmost trust, but they all had to earn it…in one way or another.  I gave you a test, to prove your loyalty, and you passed.  However, if I had to grade your performance on that particular test, I would have to place it at a C-minus.”

Hood snickered, “I never was the best student.  C-minus was pretty much par for the course for me.”

Dr. Daka looked disappointed, “For your sake, I hope your best work is not in that range.  If it is, then I can’t use you.  You will find that, if I can’t use you, I will have no problem getting rid of you.  And, when I say ‘get rid of you’, I mean in the way you were supposed to get rid of the Joker.”

Red Hood flinched, but not hard enough for Daka to notice.  “What are you talking about?  He’s gone.”

“Yes, gone, but not _dead_.  Any one of my Agents could have knocked him out and returned him to Arkham.  I wanted to see if you had the stomach for the kind of work I expect from my operatives.  I know you pulled the Batman out of that warehouse several weeks ago.  What I expect from you is to be able to make the…how do they say?  The big play?  That warehouse exploded to protect the operation, because one of my Agents willingly strapped on an explosive vest and detonated it in the warehouse.  That is the kind of loyalty and sacrifice I expect from all of my Agents.”

Hood swallowed under his helmet, “You gave me the Joker to do with as I pleased.  I had my fun, and set myself up to have more fun in the future.  He’ll break out of Arkham again, then I get to have another shot at him.”

“So long as you work for me, you follow my organizational structure.  You have a particular set of skills that I find will be useful for the duration of my stay in Gotham, but only with discipline will those skills continue to be useful to me.  While ‘having fun’ is one thing, what you actually did was leave a loose end.  Loose ends are only good for unraveling organizations, and I will not have that.  That is unacceptable.”

Daka was silent for several minutes, pacing before the man while deciding if he would pass along his next test.  Agent 4, standing at the computer panel and observing the exchange on the order of Daka, made sure the strap holding his pistol in his holster was unhooked, ready to draw and fire at a moment’s notice.  He took another small step forward, to make sure the vigilante knew he was being watched and covered, if Hood were to try anything.

As a bead of sweat made its way down the side of Jason’s face, Daka turned back to the younger man and spoke softly.  “I have decided to give you another chance to prove yourself.  If you are able to pass this test, you will have earned your place among my Agents.”  He beckoned Hood forward and nodded to Agent 4.  Agent 4 pressed a button on the control panel, which activated a bank of security monitors.  A pitched battle was being fought, focusing on two spots in the nearby warehouse.  Batman and Red Robin were engaged in hand-to-hand combat with close to two dozen of Daka’s Agents.  To Hood’s internal satisfaction, they were holding their own quite well.  Hood counted over a dozen of Daka’s Agents already laid out across the warehouse floor.  He allowed himself a smile, knowing it couldn’t be seen on the other side of his helmet.

“They fight well, no?”

Red Hood nodded, “They do,” he answered carefully.

“I know you trained with them.  I know more about you than you want me to, _Jason Todd._   I know you hold a grudge against Batman.  I also know that it is not _this_ Batman you hold a grudge against.  Don’t act so surprised, I first ran across the Batman over fifteen years ago.  Either he doesn’t age, or he has retired and passed on the title to another.  What I really want to know is, is this one as good as the original?  You are going to answer that question for me.  Go to the warehouse and engage them.  I will be watching from here.  I want them alive, and brought back here.  If you can do that, you will have earned your place as one of my Agents, Mr. Hood.”

Daka turned his back on Red Hood as he left the control room, invisibly shaken at being verbally unmasked.  He made his way slowly down the hall, an internal war waging behind his eyes.  _Think, Todd, think!  How did he figure it out?  Does he know who Bruce was?  Does he know about Dick and Tim?  What is their plan?  How can I help them take Daka down?  He’s going to be watching, I can’t just help Batman and Burger Boy take out the guards.  Think, Todd!_

Hood stopped in his small, assigned quarters, hoping to find anything that could help him.  His holsters sat on the small desk, empty.  His favored pistols had been confiscated until Daka felt he had proven his worth.  It wasn’t the best compromise to make, but it had allowed him into the inner workings of Daka’s organization.  Unfortunately, he had been watched like a hawk and not allowed to leave the grounds of the factory since his arrival over a week earlier.  As such, he hadn’t had a chance to contact Dick and give the location of the hideout.  Now, it wouldn’t be necessary, as Batman and Red Robin were here.  Unable to think of anything else, Hood grabbed the crowbar that had become his only allowed weapon while inside Daka’s citadel, and headed for the warehouse, hoping to come up with something before Dr. Daka had a chance to kill them all.

 

_Meanwhile…_

Batman and Red Robin entered through the first door they could find that did not have an obvious alarm attached to the frame.  Nothing sounded as they stealthily entered a too bright corridor.  They made their way down the hall, trying to stay out of as many security camera views as possible.  That was a tall order, since it seemed like the cameras were everywhere.

Red Robin hissed at the man across the hall from him.  “Any idea where we’re going?”

“The control room, wherever that is.”

“Didn’t you study _any_ of the blueprints Robin found yesterday?”

Batman shrugged, “Is now really the time for this?  Pretty soon we’re going to run into guards, or maybe even Daka himself.  Get in the game.”

Down the hall, a door opened, letting half a dozen guards out of the office that had been converted into a bunk room.  Seeing the pair of vigilantes, the first guard in the hall froze in shock.  The second guard ran into the back of the first when he stopped suddenly, startled as he looked up to see Batman and Red Robin.  The third guard had a much calmer head on his shoulders, and ran the few steps down the hall to trigger the silent alarm. 

Batman saw the actions of the man and snapped out of his own shock.  Red Robin followed closely behind as they raced to engage the guards.  The six henchmen went down in mere seconds, and Batman and Red Robin split up to check the rest of the rooms in this hallway for more guards.

Regrouping, Batman said, “Well, if they didn’t know we were here before, they sure will now.”

“What’s the plan, now?”

A small smile crept onto Batman’s face, “Now, we go old school.”

A matching smile made its way onto Red Robin’s face, “Dad would be proud.  I just hope we can match his tricks.”

“I think the two of us should be able to equal one Batman.”

The smile faded from Red Robin’s face, “Yeah, but I would still like one Batman, no offense.”

Batman patted his brother’s shoulder, “You and me both.”

They worked their way down the hallway, towards the center of the building.  They emerged into the main storage area of the building to find a disheartening sight.  The giant room had several stacks of boxes and remnants of furniture.  Unfortunately, for Batman and Red Robin, there were almost as many guards present in the room as there were boxes.

For several seconds, both sides just stared at each other.  The guards were mostly stunned that their targets had walked into their grasp, while Batman and Red Robin were doing a head count.

“I count thirty-five.  How do you want to handle this?” Red Robin asked.

“I want you to try again, I count thirty-eight.  Like I said, old school.  We pick a spot and start from there, and we don’t stop until we’re the only two standing, got it?”

Red Robin took a deep breath as he prepared himself, “Right, suicide run.  Well, it’s been nice knowing you.”

“Don’t talk like that, brother.  We’re better than that.”

The blaring of the alarm acted like a starter’s horn.  Both factions charged each other, each side expecting a win.  The first few guards went down easily, until they started attacking in pairs and groups.

Fighting in the open gave an advantage to the mass of humanity that made up Daka’s guards.  Red Robin was the first to make the decision to move the fight in among the stacks of boxes, where he could at least have some protection on one or two sides, and limit the number of guards that could attack him at once.  Moving also meant that Batman and Red Robin had to split up, which was something that Batman was loathe to do.

Batman stuck to the open areas, trying to channel Bruce by sticking to tactics that involved sheer, brute strength.  It worked for close to a minute, before another wave of reinforcements arrived in the room.

Fighting his way past Red Robin, he called out, “More inbound.  How you doing?”

Avoiding a charging goon and redirecting the man into one of his protective boxes, Red Robin replied, “Oh, just great.  Any adjustment to the plan, or are we still kicking it old school?”

Batman took a blow, but returned one that was twice as hard, laying the man out cold, “Old school seems to be working so far, but watch for vests.  If you see anyone standing nearby, but not trying to fight, clear out, make some space.  You don’t want to get caught in one of those blasts, and I’m not getting any more of my brothers blown up.”

Red Robin jumped on top of a box and used the extra height to kick a man hard in the chin, sending him into a full back flip before he landed on his stomach, out of the fight.  “Right, no explosions.  Look out!”

Both vigilantes separated as a number of men decided to knock over stacks of boxes in an attempt to crush the caped men.  The crashing of the boxes raised a blinding cloud of dust in the enclosed space, slowing the pace of the fight and leading to extended caution on both sides.

Red Robin kept fighting until he reached a wall.  He had been steadily moving in one direction, in the hopes of running across Batman again.  He didn’t know it was the wrong direction until it was too late. 

From inches behind his head, a whispered voice reached Red Robin’s ears.  “Hey there, little brother.  Long time, no see.”

Red Robin spun and threw the hardest roundhouse kick that Bruce had ever taught him at the space he imagined the voice came from.  He connected with nothing but air, losing his balance along the way but not falling over.

The voice sounded, again mere inches behind the teen.  “Now, that wasn’t a very nice way to greet someone.  Didn’t Alfred teach you better than that?”

Red Robin spun again, this time holding back on his strike until he saw his target.  His view was met with empty air and dust particles.

Once again, the voice behind him said, “Boo,” before a blinding pain sent the teen crashing to the ground, unconscious.

Batman had been fighting in circles, or at least that was what he was telling himself.  He lost sight of Red Robin after the dust cloud erupted in the warehouse.  He figured his best plan was to start a standard search pattern of ever-expanding circles, only stopping once he found his brother.  He was able to take out another ten disoriented guards before finding something unexpected.

Standing, waiting for Batman, was Red Hood.  Batman was elated to see his brother, until he saw the crowbar, and could barely make out the bound teen on the floor, several feet behind Red Hood.

Batman approached quickly, “Hood, what’s this all about?”

“As much fun as it was playing with Little Red Riding Robin, I just don’t have the time to do the same with you.”  Batman was confused at what was happening when Red Hood called out, “Over here, guys!”

Batman spun, ready to take on more of the scientist’s henchmen, when the crowbar was brought painfully against the back of his head.  Stars flashed painfully bright behind his eyes, and the ground came rushing towards his face.

The last thing Batman heard before he lost consciousness was Red Hood’s voice, saying, “Sorry Big Bird, but it’s time to take you to Sesame Street.”

 

**A/N: Coming into the home stretch now.  One more full chapter and an epilogue will be the capper for this story.  I hope everyone has enjoyed it so far, and please keep reading, because the next one may surprise you.  I am able to make that prediction because I have been writing the last few chapters of this tale out of order.  Chapter 17 was actually written within days of when I published chapter 13, and I have been working backwards since then.  I like how it turned out, and I hope you will, too.  Please be sure to review and let me know.**


	17. 17

Dark Days, Black Nights

Chapter 17

(Just a quick note: five chapters have been published today, so if you are just jumping in here without reading the others, I strongly recommend you go back, just so you don’t miss anything.)

 

 

Batman awoke with a start, his head throbbing in concert with his heart.  His eyes quickly scanned the room in which he found himself, and found that it was different from the storage room he last remembered.  This space was far smaller than the sprawling supply room of his last memory.  One entire wall of this room was taken up with monitors.  Some were showing security camera feeds, while others were tuned into local and national news channels.  The lights were dimmed in this space, giving the ambiance of a NASA control room, _or a Bond villain’s headquarters._

Relatively few computer terminals were manned, compared to the chairs available in the room.  _Techs must serve double duty as guards; that must be why there were so many in the supply room,_ Batman thought.  One man stood between two techs, his head bowed as he listened to a report that Batman couldn’t hear.  Batman started again as the man lifted his head and turned, _Daka!_

Batman struggled to regain his feet, but was thwarted before he could do more than attempt to roll to his knees.  His hands were bound behind his back tightly, and his legs were strapped and curled back, the restraints attached to his wrists.  The vigilante’s mouth curved into a vicious frown as he realized that he had been hog-tied with his own zip-ties, taken from his utility belt. 

He attempted to roll again, trying another angle in order to get his knees under him, when he was kicked roughly in the back.  Sprawling ungainly back to the floor, he was able to barely keep his nose from smashing into the tile, but used the momentum of the assault to roll onto his other side and get a glimpse of his attacker.  Batman’s jaw dropped as he recognized the man.

“Hey, Bats.  Looks like I got the upper hand, this time,” Red Hood said, with an obvious sneer in his voice.

_Jason!  No!  Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.  No wonder I haven’t heard from you._   Batman wrestled to keep his emotions neutral as he glared at the former Boy Wonder.  “Red Hood.  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, seeing you here.”  Batman’s voice dripped with disdain.

_Wow, Dickiebird is pissed._   Jason winced at the tone of voice under his hood.  His body language remained carefully neutral as he walked past the trussed-up superhero.  “Well, you know how it is.  Dr. Daka just pays better than you ever did.  He’s got a pretty sweet organization going.  Did you know that I qualify for a dental plan now?  Seriously, tell me, where else can I get to do the things I like to do, dress like this, be very greatly compensated, and get dental coverage?  I couldn’t find a 9 to 5 with those same perks, no matter how hard I looked.”

_I can’t tell if he’s joking, or if he really has betrayed us, it must be the concussion._   A fuzzy memory, half remembered, nagged at the back of his brain, “Can I assume that I have you to thank for the headache?”

A crowbar appeared in Red Hood’s hand.  He held it up and admired the remnants of the dried bloodstains on the hook, a souvenir of his run-in with the Joker.  “I’m surprised you woke up as soon as you did, for as hard as I hit you.  Did you start padding the back of that cowl or something?”

Batman was starting to sense that something wasn’t right with their conversation as his head cleared.  _Why is he being this open about our connection, when Daka is standing five feet away from him?_

Before the Caped Crusader could respond, a groan came from several feet to his left.  Red Robin slowly regained consciousness, taking a slow look around the room in the same manner as Batman had, several minutes before.  He gasped audibly as he was finally able to focus his gaze on Red Hood, standing next to Dr. Daka. 

“Oh good,” Hood sneered, “The Replacement is awake.  Now, we can have some real fun.”

“Hood, you bastard,” Red Robin spat as he struggled against his own restraints, his head spinning with the exertion.  He finally stopped moving as the ache in his head became too much to fight against.

Hood began pacing as he continued.  “Batman, I must say, the quality of your replacements has suffered in the past few years.  I don’t know how you keep fighting crime in Gotham, when your little helpers are so…helpless.  I barely had to tap that one to knock him out.  At least I had to actually swing at you to get you down.”

“Just wait until I get my hands on you.  I’ll show you the quality Batman has been able to come up with.”  Red Robin was shaking in anger.  _How could Jason have turned on Dick like this?  This has to be killing him, to see Jason standing over us, next to our target._

“Relax, baby bird.  This isn’t over yet.  We’ve got Hood right where we want him.”  Batman spoke softly to Red Robin, trying to calm the teen while he gave himself time to think of their next move.  _What the hell do we do now?  God, I wish Bruce were here, he would have already thought of something._   A pang of regret spread through the man.  _I’m sorry, Bruce.  I’m sorry I couldn’t have been a better Batman.  I hate letting your legacy down like this._

Dr. Daka spoke up for the first time.  “Have him right where you want him?  Where exactly is that?  I believe that he has you, which means that _I_ have you.  You have been too much trouble for my plans.  I haven’t been working for almost thirty years to be stopped by a man in a mask and cape.”

“What’s your plan, Daka?  What is this all leading to?  You had a good thing going with the transport company, why did you need to expand into evil enterprises?”  Batman needed to keep the man talking to give himself time to come up with a new plan.  He knew the answers to the questions he had asked, he just felt like throwing Daka off to give himself a few extra, precious seconds.

Daka gave the vigilante a strange look.  “What?  You mean that the Great Detective hasn’t figured it out yet?  And, I suppose that you also don’t remember nearly putting me out of business all those years ago?  I may have had a vendetta against the government before I even heard of Gotham City, but your actions kept the place in mind.  Why not kill two birds with one stone?”

Batman shook his head slightly, regretting the move instantly as his field of vision blurred and spun nauseatingly.  “No, I remember taking out that arms shipment.”  It wasn’t exactly a lie.  Dick vaguely remembered Bruce telling him about the early days of Batman when he was first training to be Robin.  He also remembered, far more clearly, reading the news account and Bruce’s notes of the takedown, especially since he had read them again only three days earlier.

Red Robin was struggling against his bonds, bound in the same manner as Batman.  Red Hood approached the younger crime fighter and tapped his forehead with the end of the crowbar.  “Hey, don’t think that just because Batman is doing all the talking, that I’m not still watching you.  You’re lucky I decided to just knock you out.  I could have taken your head off your shoulders and reduced my aggravation level greatly.”

Red Robin stopped struggling with a growl as Hood regained his spot next to the scientist.  Daka turned to Hood and asked, “Are they capable of breaking loose of their bonds, given their concussed condition?”

“In a word, yes.  I’m sure they both have fifty things in their belts that could cut the ties.”

Daka shook his head slowly, looking disappointed.  “That’s not what I wanted to hear, Mr. Hood.  As my vigilante expert, I expect you to be able to think like them in order to predict what they are going to do next.  Tell me, why didn’t you take their belts?”

Hood’s throat began to dry as he took his turn under Daka’s interrogation again.  _I can see why his other underlings are afraid of him, that tone of voice is almost as effective as the Bat-Glare._   “The belts are booby-trapped.  I couldn’t have removed them forcefully without being knocked just as unconscious as they were.  What good would that have done for you?”

Daka’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  “There are always ways around petty things like that.  Why did you not offer this information sooner?”

“It wouldn’t have mattered before they got here.”

Daka turned on his heel and stalked to a cabinet hanging on the far wall.  He pulled out a shiny, silvery, oversized device that could only be likened to a ray gun from a sci-fi B-movie.  He shoved a thick rod into the handgrip and pressed a button on the top of the weapon.  Daka’s personal Radium Gun began to hum as it charged.  By the time the scientist was standing next to Red Hood again, a green light was slowly pulsing on the top of the weapon, next to the button Daka initially pushed.

“I believe that this will be suitable for removing those pesky utility belts.”  Dr. Daka took a step closer to Batman and leveled the gun at the man’s waist.  Batman paled under the cowl, wondering why his life wasn’t flashing before his eyes yet.  Batman refused to close his eyes as Daka took careful aim.  He depressed the trigger for the briefest of moments, causing a tightly focused green beam to emanate from the barrel.  It made contact with the buckle of the utility belt, causing a hiss as the carbon titanium material was peeled away one molecule at a time, creaking and cracking as its integrity was sheared away.  Before anyone in the room could react, Dr. Daka repeated the same procedure on Red Robin’s belt.

“Would you be so kind as to remove those now, Mr. Hood?  The defenses should be quite neutralized at this point.”  Stunned, Hood approached and, using the hook of the crowbar, took both utility belts from his one-time allies.  Daka was still talking as Hood was appropriating the belts.  “This is your first time seeing my toy up close, isn’t it, Batman?  I can assure you, like all the best inventors, I always save the best for myself.  This one is far smaller, and yet far more powerful, than the one I sold to your Joker.  He couldn’t appreciate the marvelous beauty and utility of this glorious implement.  He just wanted a ‘big stick’, I believe is the term.  Such a waste.  Tell me, this Joker seems like the type that would use a shotgun for a can opener, no?”

Batman snorted, “No, he is more the type that would use a regular can opener, then take the sharp lid, the can, and the shotgun, and torture his victim with all of them.”

Daka seemed truly interested at this information, “Would you be willing to explain that remark?”

_Keep him talking, good._   “Joker is the type who would kidnap someone, starve them for a few days, and then eat whatever was in the can in front of them.  When the person begged for food, Joker would use the lid to slice them up, death by a thousand cuts-style, then use the shotgun to finish them off when he got bored.”

Daka tilted his head, looking confused, “Why would he do this?”

_He’s kidding, right?  Did he really not know who he was doing business with?_   “For fun.  Whatever gives him a laugh.  Something to distract him between his stays in Arkham and his next big plot.  In short, because he is psychotic.”

Daka pondered this information for a minute.  _He really would have shot me when he was here.  Maybe he was right, and I didn’t plan far enough ahead before coming to Gotham?_  

Daka was lost in thought, and therefore didn’t notice Red Robin’s tongue snake out of his mouth to activate his radio.  He hissed, as quietly as he could, “Batman, look at the monitors.  Upper left, number two.”

Batman activated his own radio, wondering too late if Red Hood was able to listen in, but taking a chance.  He looked at the monitor in question and saw nothing.  “What are you talking about?  There’s nothing there.”

Batman and Red Robin had their lens-covered eyes focused on the wall of monitors, and both almost jumped when a guard was seen falling into frame on monitor three and lying on the ground, unmoving.  Monitor four caught the flicker of movement, but nothing concrete.  A shadow flitted across monitor seven before another guard was laid out, his feet barely visible at the top of monitor twelve.

One of the two technicians at the bank of computers jumped out of his chair, knocking it over with a loud clatter as he exclaimed, “Sir!  More intruders!”

Daka whirled to stare at the man before averting his gaze to the screens.  He saw the unconscious men, then pointed at a screen directly in front of him, his body blocking the view from Batman and Red Robin.

“Agent four, agent five, get out there.  We have had too many interruptions today.  I don’t care what happens to this new interloper, just make sure that I don’t have to take care of it.  In fact, you are free to kill it.  I don’t need any more distractions if the plan is to proceed on schedule.  Go, now.”  The two men left the control room in a hurry, leaving Daka protected by his newest agent against the hog-tied heroes.

Aggravated, Daka shut off the screens with a growl.  He paced for a full two minutes, thinking of what his next steps needed to be in order to keep as close to the schedule as possible.  This day had thrown his plan off drastically, and Daka felt he would have to do some serious reorganizing to minimize the impact on operations.

Talking more to work out his ideas, Daka said, “Mr. Hood, we need to consider our next location of business.  The tragedy at the hospital has proven the effectiveness of the Radium Gun.  Out of town orders will start coming in soon.  I am done with Gotham City; this place has caused me too much trouble of late.  I would like your opinion.  Do you believe that Metropolis or Central City should be the next stop-off point?”

Red Hood paced as he thought about the question.  “Why those two?  They both have potential masked dangers.  Why not move up to the big leagues?  New York, Washington, Philadelphia, Boston.  With that pop gun of yours, you’re ready to hit the big time.  The shipping company is legitimate enough to get you a small foothold in any of those bigger cities, and expanding the underground operations will be a piece of cake, now that the Gotham stories have hit the national news.”

Daka stroked his chin, obviously liking what he was hearing.  “You have opened me up to some interesting prospects.  I think Washington may be a bit of a stretch, too much security for my liking, but the others have promise.  I believe you have convinced me.  What you mentioned was always part of the plan, but perhaps my preparations have been a bit too cautious.  It has taken me thirty years to get this far, but I could have done it in twenty or less.  Now, it is time to hit the ground running.  Tomorrow, we move.  Today, we have a do-gooder problem to rid ourselves from.”

Red Hood hefted his crowbar again, twirling it like it were a cane.  “Do I get to dispose of them, or do you want that for yourself?”

Dr. Daka held up his Radium Gun and said, “I think I will take care of that myself.  However, I am not an uncaring man.  I know you have history with Batman and his associate.  I will give you some time to…say goodbye, as it were.  Just be sure to leave them alive and conscious.  I want them to know what is happening to them, so they can remember, for however many seconds of life they have remaining, that sticking their capes in the business of others, where it doesn’t belong, only ever leads to a sticky end.”

“My pleasure,” Red Hood almost purred as he began slapping the crowbar against the palm of his left hand.

He took one step towards the duo, lying on the floor of the control room, when the door was kicked in.  Bright, exterior lights shone in to the darkened space, dazzling all occupants of the control room for a matter of seconds.  As their eyes cleared, a long shadow striking a heroic pose, cape flapping in a slight breeze, filled the space of the open doors.

Following the shadow back to the person producing the shadow was almost something out of a cartoon.  The figure casting the long shadow was anything but imposing, as Robin took several limping steps into the room, out of breath from his battle with the remaining guards.

Daka took a look at the current Boy Wonder, and his eyes grew wide as a smile played across his lips.  “Ah, you must be Robin.  I was wondering if you were going to make an appearance to try to save your mentor.  Please, feel free to try.”

Ignoring the scientist, Robin kept his gaze locked on Red Hood.  He stopped, still a fair distance away, and shouted, “HOOD!  You take one more step towards them and it will be your last.”

To everyone’s surprise, Red Hood stopped in his tracks, his eyes on the youthful vigilante.

Batman stared at Robin, desperate to yell for the boy to leave, to run as fast as his gimpy leg would carry him, to go back to the cave and call out the full Justice League.  _Look at him, it looks like he can barely stand.  God, he’s so frustrated and angry, that he is hitting his own leg.  Maybe he’s just trying to make sure that it will still support him?_

Red Hood was staring at the hand as well.  _What is he…wait, really?_   “Well, Boy Blunder.  Come to join in with Batsy?  If you want, I can beat you first and get it over with?”

The hand hitting Robin’s leg didn’t stop as he launched his retort, “You’ve beaten everything you’re going to, Hood.  We _trusted_ you!  How could you betray us like this?”

_This may just work._   “Think about it, kid.  I’ve finally found someone who could give me everything I ever wanted.  Far more than Batman could ever do.  You must know that I’ve always been in this for myself.”

Robin’s voice became deadly quiet, while his hand tapped away at his thigh.  “You bastard.  I’m going to enjoy taking you down.”

Red Hood gave an evil smirk before remembering that he was still wearing the full-face helmet, and it couldn’t be seen.  His tone matched Robin’s in lethality.  “You really think you can take me on, Brat?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.  How many broken bones do you want?”

“Don’t mess with the bull, son, you’ll get the horns.”

Robin straightened slightly, “That tells me all I need to know.”  He laughed, “You’re scared.  Not only are you scared, but you’re scared of _me._   Why else would you throw out a cheesy one-liner from an eighties movie as a threat?”

Red Hood began spinning the crowbar in preparation.  “Batsy over there will tell you: I’ve never been scared of anything in my life.”

“Awfully defensive for someone who claims to not be scared.”  Robin slapped his thigh insistently, itching to take his shot at the traitor.

Red Hood took a stance, readying himself for combat.  “So, this is how you want to die?”

Robin took his own stance, “Better to die like this, than to have to live with the knowledge that I betrayed those I trust most.  I don’t stand by and watch as my friends are taken from me.”

Red Hood snorted, “Funny, I didn’t think you _had_ any friends, Demon Brat.  At least, not any who didn’t feel sorry for you, or only spend time around you because of Batman.  Face it, no one wants you.  You’re the consolation prize of sidekicks, the ‘Miss Congeniality’ of the hero community.”

Batman and Red Robin both gasped deeply in shock.  Not many liked the current Robin, it was true, but no one had ever thrown it so harshly into the boy’s face.  _Damn it, Jason,_ Batman thought, _be glad I’m still tied up, because you are so far over the line that it’s going to take a week of ass kicking to get you back to where you need to be._

As much as it infuriated him, Robin still sniffled as he said, “So, that’s how it’s going to be, then?”

“That’s how it is, brat.”

A snarl curled Robin’s lip as he spat out, “Very well, then.  Prepare to die again, Hood.”

Daka spoke up, from a couple feet behind Red Hood, “Mr. Hood, kill that one first.  I want Batman to see his failure.”

Red Hood nodded.  “Any time now, Junior.”

“I’m going to make you eat those words, asshole.”

“Stop talking about it and BRING IT!”

With a guttural war cry, Robin sprinted the remaining distance between himself and Red Hood.  The speed surprised everyone in the room who was aware of the injuries suffered by the child.  Red Hood crouched into a stance, holding the crowbar high, ready to deliver a blow that Batman and Red Robin were sure would split Robin’s skull.

Batman watched everything unfold as if it were in slow motion.  A cry of ‘NO!’ escaped his throat as tears leaked from under the cowl.  No matter how this ended, he was about to lose a brother to the Wayne Family Civil War.

It was over in a matter of seconds, and despite having a front row seat for everything, Batman would find later that he was hard pressed to understand everything that happened in that short span of time.  Robin, still yelling as he approached Red Hood, gave a short nod three steps before he reached the man.  At the nod, Red Hood dropped from his stance onto his knees, bending over until his face almost touched the tile.  The crowbar went from being spun dangerously in his hand to being held straight up, over his head.  Robin covered the remaining distance in the blink of an eye and launched himself up onto Red Hood’s back.  When Red Hood felt the weight, he propelled himself up, to give the boy an extra boost on launch.  Robin snagged the crowbar on his way by and put all his remaining strength into a leap at the startled scientist.

Unfortunately, even with all his remaining strength, and Red Hood’s extra boost, Robin’s launch was still not enough to completely cover the distance between Hood and Daka.  Daka began swinging around to face the fight when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye.  He was not expecting to see the sidekick flying at him, and was a bit slow in his response.  His arm swung around and raised the Radium Gun to bear on Robin, hoping to end the threat once and for all.

Robin saw instantly that his flight would not be long enough to connect with the target.  Hoping that his reach would be enough, at the apex of his flight, Robin swung the crowbar with all his might.  He wasn’t close enough to hit the man, but he did make contact.

As the barrel of the Radium Gun drew a bead on the Boy Wonder, the crowbar connected with the barrel.  The contact was enough to dislodge the weapon from Daka’s grip.  Dr. Daka panicked at losing control of the weapon, and squeezed his fingers, trying to regain his grip.  Unfortunately for the doctor, his index finger was still in the trigger guard as he clenched his hand, and the gun spun around the man’s finger.  The grasping motion was enough to hit the trigger, activating the terrible green beam of the weapon. 

The Radium Gun spun through its arc, the beam neatly bisecting its inventor.  A strangled cry erupted from the man, only to be silenced as the disintegrating ray worked its way through his chest.  The last thing Batman saw was true fear written on the face of the man, before his head disappeared with a sizzle and a foul odor of burning hair.

Robin lay on his stomach on the ground of the control room, his last reserves of energy utterly spent.  Looking up, he found himself staring down the barrel of the Radium Gun, as it lay on the cool tile floor, where it landed.  Scared of the weapon, Robin tried to push the gun away, before it could go off again, but it was a lot harder to move than he thought.  He couldn’t even find the strength to roll away from the potential path of the beam.  Surprisingly, a brown-jacketed arm came from above Robin and moved the gun away, Dr. Daka’s disembodied arm still attached.

Robin nodded, “Thank you.  I don’t seem to be able to get out of the way of that…thing.”

From directly above his head, Red Hood said, “Well, I don’t like looking down the barrel of that thing either.  Just relax, Robin, stop trying to move.  Catch your breath.  It’s over now.”

Panting, Robin whispered, “Hood, are you laying on me?”

Red Hood hesitated for a second before replying, “…Well, I had to get out of the way of that beam.  This…this is just where I ended up.”

Robin thought there was more to the explanation, which he would most likely never hear, “You can get up, now.”

“Oh…yeah,” Shaking arms pushed the older man up to a kneeling position.  He was about to say something else, when Red Robin’s voice came from across the room.

“What the hell just happened?”

Robin rolled over and said with a snarky tone, “I just did your job for you, Burger Boy.  You’re welcome.”

Red Hood was walking over to untie Batman and Red Robin when he stopped, several feet away.  “If I untie you, are you going to attack me?”

Batman and Red Robin looked at each other for a long minute.  Finally, Batman said, “That depends on your explanation.  You need to explain what just happened, and why you were working for Daka?”

Robin hadn’t moved from his spot on the floor, but replied, “He wasn’t working for Daka.  He just needed everyone to think that he was.”

Red Robin sat up and rubbed his newly-freed wrists, where the zip-ties had started cutting into his skin.  “…And how do you know that?”

“The Joker.  It was all over the news after you had already left for patrol.  The Joker was reported to be back at Arkham.  He had been beaten, I’m assuming by that crowbar, and is going to be in the hospital for quite a long time, but he is back in custody.  I couldn’t raise you on the radio to tell you.”

Batman looked up at Hood as he was cut loose.  “Red Hood, is that what happened?”

Red Hood related the incident of several days ago, when the Joker had come threatening Daka for more ammunition for the Radium Gun.  Batman nodded sagely before asking the question that was on the tip of Red Robin’s tongue.  “That’s all well and good, but you were already working for Daka by then.  Why?  How did he trust you so fast?”

Red Hood watched as Batman rose to his feet before answering, “Simple, I promised him that I could deliver you.  What greater prize is there for a criminal working in Gotham?”

Batman had to restrain Red Robin as the teen charged his older brother.  “Why you…What was your plan after that, huh?  You were going to go through with his orders, weren’t you?”

Red Hood crossed his arms over his chest and said, “I’m sure you would have thought of something, aren’t you supposed to be the smart one?”

Batman let go of Red Robin and said, “Enough, little brother.  We need to get the police out here to clean up.  Go see if there is a phone in that NASA board over there.”

“As touching as this reunion is, I would like to get up, now.  This is not the most comfortable floor to be stuck on.”  Robin called out, still laying on the floor of the control room, energy utterly spent as his various injuries began throbbing again.

Batman made his way gingerly over to the youth.  Every step was painful, due to the concussion.  He noticed that Red Robin had slumped down in a chair at the control panel as he phoned for the police, feeling just as spent as Batman and Robin.  Batman held out a hand and said, “Can you pull yourself up, or are you going to make me pick you up?”

Robin reached his arm up as far as he could, in his condition.  He missed Batman’s hand by several inches as he swiped at the outstretched limb.  After several more attempts, his arm flopped back to his side as he said, defeated, “Um…You may have to pick me up.”

**A/N:  Well, that’s just about it.  There will be a short epilogue to follow to wrap things up, but that is the end of Daka and his evil corporation.  If anyone is interested, the actual Daka from the original serial only used the Radium Gun once or twice, it wasn’t an integral part of the plot, as I made it in this story.  His end was just as abrupt as this one, but quite different.  The real Daka had a Bond-villain worthy alligator pit in his headquarters, complete with trap-door.  While trying to make his escape, the trap door was sprung, and Daka fell to his death at the hungry jaws of his pets.  The trap door alligator pit is a bit clichéd today, but in 1942 it was cutting edge and interesting.**

**I’ll say this again after the epilogue, but thanks for reading and sticking with me through my long absences.  Hopefully my next multi-chapter story won’t take this long to complete, but one never knows.  Thanks to everyone who favorited and reviewed, your kind gestures have kept me going.**

**Thanks again.**


	18. Epilogue

Dark Days, Black Nights

Epilogue

(Just a quick note: five chapters have been published today, so if you are just jumping in here without reading the others, I strongly recommend you go back, just so you don’t miss anything.)

 

As the autopilot-driven Batmobile rolled to a stop in the cave, the first thing its three occupants saw was also the last thing they wanted to see.  Alfred stood waiting at the edge of the turntable, his face cast in stone and his fists firmly planted on his hips.  The butler was tapping a foot expectantly and, if they had been a little closer, they would have been able to see the muscle twitching underneath his left eye.

Batman laid a hand on Robin’s shoulder and said in a heavy tone, “Please tell me you got his approval before you even put your Robin uniform on?”

Robin’s silence said more that his guilty look.

Batman continued, “Did he even know you left?”

“Not exactly,” Robin answered in a small, timid voice.

Red Robin shook his head and said, “I hope you took some good pictures of that costume, because this might be the last time you ever see it.”

“I left him a note, that’s…that’s not going to count for anything, is it?”

Batman shook his head, “Sorry, Baby Bat.  Been nice knowing you.”

It had been decided as they left the Marshall Factory that the three injured parties would take the vehicle that was capable of being driven by computer.  Red Hood rode back to the cave on Robin’s R-Cycle, utterly thankful for the gyroscopic stabilization system.  If it hadn’t been for that, he would have fallen over several times on the youth-sized bike.  His greater bulk was more than enough to set the motorcycle off balance, and the gyroscope system was complaining of an overload the entire trip.  He pulled into the cave several minutes after the Batmobile, but just in time to witness the aftermath.

Alfred began to approach the car, as its riders had not gotten out yet.  As soon as the butler took one step onto the turntable, Robin threw his door open.  Batman grabbed his arm and said, “Are you sure you want to go out there?”

“I would rather go out on my own than have him drag me out.  I think I can make this at least partly better.”

Damian stepped out of the car and peeled the mask from his face.  Limping heavily, he approached the old family confidant and met his eyes with a look far braver than he actually felt.  “Pennyworth, I apologize for my actions this evening.  It was rash, impulsive, and extremely dangerous.  I wasn’t ready for what I did, and I put myself and my brothers in danger by my actions.  I know I shouldn’t have snuck out, and I know I shouldn’t have taken my costume without your permission.  I assume some sort of lecture is coming, and I will then be grounded until I’m twenty.  So, if it is okay with you, I will change and go to my room to await further punishment.  I…I’m sorry.”

Alfred had been ready to yell and scream at the foolish actions of the child, but hearing it laid out as Damian had cooled some of his fire.  Instead, as Batman and Red Robin climbed from the car, Alfred said, “Thirty.”

“I’m sorry?” The confused youth replied.

“I said, thirty.  As in, you will be grounded until you are thirty.  First, you will report to the medical station, where you will be examined from head to toe, by both myself and Dr. Thompkins.  You will then debrief with your brother on the actions of the night, and how foolish it was for you to take part in them in your condition.  Then, you will report to your room.  Assuming Dr. Thompkins and I give you a clean bill of health, which I doubt, given how pronounced your limp was when you exited the car, you will be assigned a series of chores as I see fit.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, Pennyworth,” Damian replied, gaze migrating to the floor.  As much as he expected to be punished, he had hoped for a bit of leniency.  It appeared that would not be the case.

“What was that, young man?”

Damian snapped his eyes back to Alfred’s.  “Yes, Pennyworth.”

“Go.”

Damian limped away slowly, unable to move any faster under his aggravated injuries and his growing depression.  Dick came to stand next to the butler, cowl in hand, as he rubbed the knot growing on the back of his head.  “You went a little hard on him, didn’t you?  He did just save our lives.”

Alfred watched the boy go as he said, “Did he, now?  Well, I expected nothing less.  If he was going to sneak out as Robin, he very well better have saved at least your lives.”

“I’m sure he was as heroic as he was in anticipation of extended punishment.  Tell me, will I have a partner in the foreseeable future?”

Alfred turned to face Dick, his gaze warming, “Not until all of your injuries are healed.  I have taken it upon myself to request Miss Oracle to assign someone else to patrol the city for the next few weeks.”

Dick smiled as Tim came up to join in the conversation, “So, we’re grounded, too?”

“If that’s what it takes, Master Dick.  Go get yourselves to the medical bay, Dr. Thompkins will be down momentarily.”

“Sure, Alfred.”

A ghost of a smile crossed the butler’s lips, “Did he really save the day?”

Dick and Tim met each other’s eyes before returning the butler’s smile.  Tim said, “Took out Daka himself.  It was a bit of a fluke, but effective.  You need to stay for the debriefing, I don’t think this is the kind of story that can be told too many times without losing its gloss.”

Dick and Tim entered the medical bay just steps behind Dr. Thompkins.  Leslie’s stern voice could be heard emanating from the bay, lecturing all three on the folly of the vigilante lifestyle.  Alfred approached Jason as he took his helmet and mask off, still standing next to the smaller motorcycle.  Before Jason could say anything, Alfred wrapped him in a warm hug.

“I am most glad to see you still with us, Master Jason.  Your room is waiting for you, just as you left it.  Please, get yourself cleaned up, and see the doctor, if you need to.  Is there anything special you would like for breakfast in the morning?”

Jason ran a hand through his hair in embarrassment.  “Um…I don’t think I will be too welcome around the table come morning.  I should probably just…um…go now.”  Jason turned to leave.

“Jason,” the butler’s soft voice stopped the man, “Whatever happened, the four of you can get past it.  You are stronger together, I wish you would see that.”

“Yeah, well…”

Alfred placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder.  “You need to stay at least through the debriefing, Master Dick would just follow you and drag you back until he got what he wanted for his report.  I assume it will be rather late before that is done, and there is no use in you risking an accident in returning to your apartment when you are tired.”

Jason sighed, “I am tired.”

Alfred smiled, “There are pajamas waiting for you outside the showers, please make use of them.  I will have your clothes laundered before morning if you just leave them on the bench.”  The butler moved to make room for the younger man to pass.

“Alfred.”

“Yes, Master Jason?”

“Don’t…don’t put yourself out.  Like you said, it’s late.  My clothes can wait until you have a full load for the washer.  I don’t think I will be needing them until sometime late tomorrow…or the next day.”

“Very good, sir.”

An hour and a half later, after two sets of inspections and a round of showers, the brothers sat around the computer and compiled their report.  Alfred listened raptly at the evening’s events, casting a glare at Jason when it was revealed that he was the source of the concussions.  What he was really interested in was Damian’s part in the events of the evening.  So far, the child had been silent, since he hadn’t come into the story yet.  Alfred also suspected strongly that he was ruminating over his impending punishment for sneaking out.

Dick was asking the boy, “D, you said you knew that Jason wasn’t working for Daka because of the news report about the Joker, but you weren’t able to contact us to let us know.  How were you able to set up your little charade beforehand?”

Damian was meeting no gazes, even with all eyes looking at him.  He told his lap, “Morse code.”

“Huh?” Dick asked, confused.

Jason took over, “He said Morse code.  He was slapping his leg in Morse code.  You’re lucky I even remember Morse code, Damian.”

“It was a chance I had to take.  I couldn’t think of any other way to communicate that wouldn’t be noticeable.”

Dick sat back with a smile, “So, that’s what you were doing when you were tapping your leg.  I wondered.  What was the message?”

Damian sighed, clearly wanting this to be over so he could be alone.  “I told him that I knew about the Joker, and that he wasn’t really working for Daka.  I told him to make the argument look convincing, but to help me get a shot at Daka.”

Tim spoke up, “That was a pretty big gamble to take.  How could you be sure he hadn’t turned on us?”

Damian looked at Jason, only glancing at the man’s face, “I couldn’t, but I had to try.  It either would work, or it wouldn’t.  I…I had to try.”

The group was quiet for a short minute before Dick leaned back and said, “Nice job, Damian.”

Alfred continued to rethink the boy’s punishment as the rest of the night’s events were explained to him.  He wasn’t exactly happy that Daka ended up dead, and with barely enough pieces left to qualify as a single body, but he thought that Damian might feel worse about the situation, if his expression was anything to judge by.

As the report was finalized, Alfred pulled the child aside before he could head for the stairs.  “Master Damian, while I am still upset that you left without permission tonight, I do agree that your actions were necessary for both the safety of the city and the survival of your brothers.  We will discuss punishment tomorrow, but I think we can safely state that you will see daylight before your thirtieth birthday.”

Damian didn’t meet the man’s eyes this time, “Thank you, Pennyworth, but Daka is dead because of my actions.  I feel there should be some penalty stiffer than grounding for that.”

“The fact that you feel this guilt this intensely tells me that you are aware of the seriousness of your actions.”

Damian’s voice grew watery, “I promised Father I wouldn’t kill.  I broke my promise to him.  It may have been the only promise I made to my Father, and I can’t even honor his memory by keeping it.”

Alfred kneeled, drawing the attention of everyone in the cave.  “No, you honor his memory by being you.  You didn’t go out with the intention to take a man’s life.  You went to protect your brothers and to protect the city, in the best tradition laid out by your Father.  You put your own needs and physical comfort aside to guard the city that your Father loved.  If anything honors his memory, it is that, not a few words.”

A tear slipped from a blue eye.  “It was really important to him, my promise.”

“And it is really important to you, as well.  The fact that it bothers you this much tells me that you remember.  You _tried_ , Master Damian.  And, even if you didn’t keep the letter of your promise, you kept the spirit, the heart of your words.  You can be proud of that.  Now, come along, it’s past your bedtime.  You can accompany your brothers in the elevator.”

As his four weary young charges were whisked away towards their beds, Alfred couldn’t help but allow a smile to plaster his face.  _If only you could see them now, Master Bruce.  I daresay you would have a hard time being prouder of them than I am now._

 

**A/N:  That’s it, the end.  Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story from the beginning, and for all the great reviews that I have had along the way that have kept me going and pointed me in different directions for this story.**

**Next for me is a short break, followed by another multi-chapter story.  I am also conceptualizing another one-shot that will link Dark Days to my overall timeline a bit better.  If the idea coalesces, then hopefully I will get that out before September.  If not, then I will get it out later.**

**Thanks again, and like always, I don’t own anything.**


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